


A Snow Storm Interlude

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Humor, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-12-07 20:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: When two consultants and their pets get snowed-in.....secret sexual urges, fantasies, long-standing hopes and eventual gratification follows!





	1. The Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IantoLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantoLives/gifts).



The landscape was beautiful but also terrifying. In the shadows of the majestic and mysterious Himalayan mountains, the valley looked green, white and black at the same time, green fields and patches of powdery snow on them, playing hide and seek with the fast-spreading shadows as darkness descended in early afternoon hours that day. John looked at Sherlock through the corner of his eyes as he drove the SUV with manual gear-shift! Christ, he was so used to the automatic cars that this felt like wrestling with the machine more than driving it.

 

“We should have stayed back at the monastery or the village,” John said, “We won’t make it back on time. It looks like a snowstorm coming up.”

 

“I still don’t get it,” Sherlock was deeply steeped into the case they had solved that morning, “We rescued the lost treasures of Rana Amar Bahadur, a former chieftain of Nepal, worth nearly half a billion. We also saved the life of the Grand Abbot, who is a descendent of the Rans and turned into a priest/messenger of God after embracing Buddhism. But the man behind all this, the thieving, scheming Lee Fenwick, didn’t seem bothered by his failure or loss. He was pretending to be defeated but I saw the look in his eyes, I saw his body language, I saw him still grasping the air-ticket to India in his hands. He didn’t look like a man who is about to get jailed or extradited. He has immunity in some form, or he has a plan B. We shouldn’t have left the village or the monastery. Now we can’t even make it to the next town. There’s a blizzard coming up.”

 

John rolled his eyes. Not for the first time during their years together as co-investigators, had he run into a situation where he had said something and Sherlock had not heard one word, then said something very similar the next moment as _‘his idea or thought’_.

 

“We can’t go back either, can we?” John asked, not answering Sherlock but picking up on one of his points.

 

“No. We need to look for shelter. Jawn, why did Lee seem so casual? He eluded me for a whole month and now he got cornered, his pockets emptied out, his plan failed and he was arrested. Then why?”

 

“I think we both know that answer. He will never go to jail. He’ll slither out of it and leave the country. But we couldn’t have done anything further. This is Nepal. We aren’t in England or even Europe, the laws and outlaws here are a bit more ferocious and….well…..um…..lawless.”

 

“WATCH OUUUTTTTTT!!!”

 

John swerved hard to avoid the yak that had come into their path suddenly. It was not exactly _suddenly_ but the visibility was so poor, thanks to the darkness and the fog rising out of the woods like a spirit from the grave, that it had come into their view at the very last moment. Sudden events merited sudden reactions and John ended up running into a tree, then bouncing off to a shallow ditch and finally bringing the car to a stop. The first thing he did was check on Sherlock, “You, you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock replied, a bit dazed, his eyes looking greener than ever in the semi-darkness, “I’m okay. You?”

 

“I-I am so sorry l-love, I didn’t see that thing un-until the last moment and then…….” John didn’t finish the sentence. He hugged his mate hard, petrified at the very thought that his careless driving could have easily killed Sherlock just now. He wasn’t so bothered about his own health or wellbeing, in fact he wasn’t even aware he had a small cut at the corner of his right eyebrow and a split lip on the left side due to the impact, his entire concentration was fully focused on the man next to him. “It’s okay,” he rubbed Sherlock’s back gently, “It was a scary moment but it’s over now. We’re fine baby. We’re both fine. Now let’s see if we can push this thing out of the ditch and continue our journey, yeah?”

 

Sherlock licked his dry lips, “Yeah, yeah, let’s……”

 

The next moment he said, “Jawn, the door won’t open.”

 

“Fuck,” John opened his side of the door and got out, assessing the damage to the car, “I don’t think we can get this out on our own. We’ll need help.

 

Snow had begun to fall by then. At first it was all tiny bits and flaky pieces which soon turned into swirling large flakes. It was going to go very bad very soon. The weather here was really unpredictable. Everyone at the monastery and village had warned them about that. “There’s no help here Jawn,” Sherlock looked around, “If we stay here we freeze. If we stay out we freeze sooner. We need to find shelter.”

 

“Shelter? Here? In the middle of nowhere?”

 

“There’s shelter somewhere close by.”

 

“I am almost afraid to ask, but how do you know?”

 

“There, tracks turning into that off road path. Seems some vehicles do go in that direction. Plus, before this last bend we took, I thought I saw smoke rise from the woods. There might be a house or two in there. You know, woodcutters and all that.”

 

John trusted Sherlock’s powers of observation and gut instinct a lot, so he didn’t even bat an eyelid. “Fair enough,” he said, helping Sherlock out, “Now let’s hurry up or we might get caught in the snow storm before we even make it to that house or houses in the woods. Come, I shall carry your bags for you and…..what happened?”

 

“OUCH,” Sherlock screeched and fell back into the seat, “Think I might have sprained my ankle.”

 

***

 

“This is terribly embarrassing,” Sherlock whined as John dragged him along on a makeshift raft like thing he had made from a few logs he’d found in the woods and some rope and sheets he had found in the boot of the rented car. As Sherlock half-sat, half-lay on it, the doctor hauled him along with superhuman strength but even then the progress was slow and frequently interrupted by the rocky terrain and the ups and downs that came with it. “Ouch fuck ouch,” Sherlock complained loudly, “You dragged me over rocks and pebbles, then a branch, owww, stop it Jawn. I am not a slab of meat from the butcher’s, I am a living, breathing human being you know.”

 

“I know,” John snarled, “And a very ungrateful, whiny and inconsiderate one too. Do you think I am enjoying this? Is there a better way?”

 

Sherlock was about to give him a smartass reply when they heard something in the woods. Footsteps, dried leaved being stepped on, a twig breaking under the pressure of a foot. Whose foot? Man or beast? They didn’t know! It could be anything! By then it was very dark and the snow was piling on to them, the blizzard about to hit the valley any moment now. The woods seemed scary and those noises did nothing to soothe their frayed nerves. “We are a long way from Baker Street,” John said, looking around and brandishing his gun in all the directions, finger on the trigger, “We need to innovate Sherlock. This is no time to get nervous and lose our bearings.”

 

“Are you advising yourself?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

 

“Oh,” John was offended at that remark, “At least I can run for my life. The same cannot be said for you, in your current condition.”

 

Again they heard the sounds.

 

“Look, I have an idea,” Sherlock piped up, “Whether our fears are unfounded or not, we don’t know. But there is an age-old mechanism to ward off terror and bring the courage back. I used to get very scared sometimes on my way back from school, back in those days when we lived in a small town. The path to our mansion was very lonely and I would often break into a run to reach my place as fast as I could.”

 

“Then?”

 

“Then Mycroft taught me to laugh my fears away.”

 

“Huh? What?”

 

“Like this.”

 

Sherlock let out a loud laughter ‘Ha hahahahaha’ and waved his arms about. Then he gave a thoroughly startled John the ‘try it before you toss it away’ look and went ‘hahahahaha’ again! His barking and loud laughter echoed across the silence of the woods and valley and lifted the hair at the back of John’s neck, yet the doctor thought of giving it a shot. Maybe if he was the one laughing out, he wouldn’t get so spooked by it. “Ha-ha,” he went at first, then realized how feeble it sounded and went full-blown ‘hahahahaha ha’ mode. Sherlock joined him and the two kept force-laughing for some time. To his surprise, John actually started to feel a bit better. “Hey,” he said in a voice tinged with pleasant surprise, “This actually works. I don’t know how and why but it does!”

 

He kept up the loud laughter and Sherlock gave him company, rubbing their hands together to warm up a little. It took them a little time before they managed to get moving again, John dragging Sherlock along on the makeshift raft and Sherlock managing to crib about the horrendous journey between hyena like laughter.

 

Suddenly a dark, tall figure approached them.

 

“John, your gun,” Sherlock urged, “Take it out quick.”

 

A deep voice boomed, “Stay where you are, don’t move.”

 

“Shit,” John took his hand out of his pocket, regretting not having grabbed his gun sooner.

 

“Who are you both?”

 

“Are you human?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous and don’t counter-question. Answer me.”

 

“Yes, human. Do you wanna know our blood groups?”

 

John gave Sherlock a pleading glance. _Please, don’t taunt and mock some ghost or sorcerer_. That voice, that silhouette, they sure didn’t belong to a normal human being like them.

 

The figure came closer and revealed his face by removing the hood of the thick long overcoat he was wearing. In a matter of two few seconds the mystery vanished and truth revealed itself in the most extraordinary manner. The man was a very familiar one, with blond mane and piercing blue eyes, he stood at a vertigo-inflicting height of six and half feet and he was built like a Greek God’s statue, all rippling sinew, strong and long bone structure and aquiline features. There stood Colonel Sebastian Augustus Moran, second-in-command to notorious mastermind James Isaac Moriarty, the best sniper in the world and a legendary man of steel.

 

“When I said woodcutters lived here, I didn’t count the big bad wolf living amongst them,” Sherlock quipped, making John want to smack him at the back of his head. This was the worst time to throw sarcasm at a formidable adversary like Sebastian. John knew from their military days together just how cruel and ruthless the colonel could be.

 

Much to his amazement, the man-giant didn’t react at first. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Sherlock closely and John saw Sebastian’s face change from anger to surprise to utter humor. Finally, the tall man burst out into rich laughter and stepped closer to Sherlock, looking down at him from his height. “So the detective hurt his leg eh?” He asked, putting his hand on top of Sherlock’s head like one would do to a child, “Imagine the indignity of being dragged along like a heavy jute bag! But how did you land up in such a pickle Mr. Holmes? Did someone like Irene Adler kick you on the shins with her Cristian Louboutin stilettos or did a mouse like Molly Hooper jam her kitten heels into your ankles for turning a blind eye to her advances?”

 

***

 

“Thanks colonel,” John said, as he carried the bags on his arms and back. They were heavy but at least this was normal. Much better than dragging a six foot man through the woods.

 

“Seb, please,” Sebastian had Sherlock slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

 

“This is undignified, this is worse than being dragged on the ground” Sherlock muttered under his breath, his head dangling half way down the sniper’s back and his arse sticking out in the air over the same man’s broad should, “Put me down….no, why are you stopping? Don’t, actually don’t, carry on.” He heaved a sigh of relief when Sebastian continued to walk after that brief stop, “Hey, at least carry me in a better way…..no, not bride style, that’s worse, oh fine go on.”

 

Sebastian slapped Sherlock’s arse, making him yelp. At this even John was astounded and gasped, “What are you doing colonel….Seb?”

 

“Isn’t that the on-off switch to make this thing stop talking?” Sebastian asked in a miffed voice.

 

“Um….never mind him. He is in pain and therefore a bit moody, like all geniuses get cranky when things don’t go their way. Now, if I may ask, what are you doing here and where are we going?” John had decided not to get into further trouble. Sherlock had the brains and he had the bravery but Sebastian had the brains, bravery and the brawn. In the wilderness of Nepal, he didn’t much fancy their chances against this behemoth.

 

“There’s a cottage up ahead, a cluster of them in fact,” Sebastian replied, “They are part of a small remote resort run by an elderly couple. Jim and I have taken shelter in one of them. We heard on the radio this storm will last a whole week and we’ll soon get snowed in completely.”


	2. A Ferocious Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JohnLock and MorMor agree on some compromises to stay together during the snow storm

When the three men reached the ‘resort’, John had to suppress the urge to laugh. It was built in a ‘clearing area’ in the woods, where about five hundred meters of land had been cleared to build this remote property, aptly named ‘Solitude Holiday Homes’. It was a small cluster of five cottages, the middle one being the biggest of all and built over two levels while the others were smaller ones and single level dwellings. There was a perimeter fence around them with a small gate, shady trees all around and a kitchen garden that had been ravaged by the weather and reduced to a snowy heap.

 

“That one,” Sebastian pointed, “The cottage on the east. It’s called ‘Eastern Sunrise’.”

 

He effortlessly carried Sherlock there with John trudging behind, panting slightly by then. How he wished Sherlock and he had packed lighter for this trip! Four bags, one backpack, a duffel, he had a lot of sympathy for porters and bell-hops by then. Two of the cottages seemed to be unoccupied, the northern and the southern ones. The western cottage had a single light on at the patio and they could hear faint strains of music coming from it. The central cottage, the biggest one, had a couple of lights on and they could smell ‘food’. A serious rumble rose up John’s stomach and he licked his lips, wishing for some hot soup and crisply toasted fresh bread with it. And a glass of stiff whisky to end the meal with and warm him up. Even his balls were frozen by then.

 

“Kitten,” Sebastian called out, “Hey kitty-kitty-kitty!”

 

Sherlock made a disgruntled grunting noise that sounded a lot like ‘Fuck you’.

 

“Seb,” John was more direct and straightforward, “I know some people love their pets but don’t concentrate on a cat right now. We need to get inside. My toes have turned to ice and so has Sherlock’s nose.”

 

“My butt too.”

 

“Whose butt are we talking about?”

 

That familiar Irish lilt, the playful manner of throwing words with extra emphasis, the sing-song tune, it was so similar to their first meeting with Jim years ago that John and Sherlock were both transported to the evening when they had met at the swimming pool complex. But this time the infamous Moriarty didn’t appear in a Westwood with his hair neatly gelled and brushed back with immaculate precision. Instead he wore flannel pajamas, an oversized hoodie that seemed rather suspiciously to be Sebastian’s, and a cute beanie with cat ears on it.

 

“Disgusting,” Sherlock commented, “Owwww.”

 

He had bene dumped on the steps to the cottage by Sebastian. “Sorry,” the colonel said, “You were getting a bit too much on the heavy side.”

 

“That’s because I have to pee,” Sherlock said in a tone of urgency as if he had only just realized how full his bladder was. He rushed past Jim, their shoulders colliding and Jim smacked back against the door.

 

John held his breath. _Why, oh why did Sherlock have to do these knee-jerk things? Now he had the madman madder_. He was still holding the bags in his arms and over his shoulder, not sure if they should stay or run from there. Sebastian, however, pre-empted Jim’s anger and controlled it before it flared up. “Hey-Hey-Hey my pretty kitty,” he joined Jim at the door and kissed him lingeringly on the lips, “I found these men stranded in the woods and decided to help. Remember, you were telling me that they would most likely get stuck here for the night and we may run into them in the valley. As always, you were right! They got stuck in the bad weather and have nowhere to go, so……”

 

“So you went to do social service?” Jim seemed curious and observant.

 

“Please,” John realized there was no other way but to beg, “We do need shelter.”

 

“Do you know, doctor Watson, that there is no cottage available here?” Jim was tapping his foot on the patio floor.

 

“But two are empty…..”

 

“They are under renovation. One is occupied by two dykes, six feet tall Scandinavian women who are professional mountaineers. Not sure they’d entertain you. The central cottage, the couple who own this place and their two servants and one maid stay there. Already sardine packed. I don’t suppose they have the place.”

 

“Oh…..”

 

John’s heart sank.

 

Sherlock was back by then and looked mighty ‘relieved’. “Hey,” he said, standing next to Jim and greeting him without looking at him, “Give me back the diamonds.”

 

“SHERLOCK,” John scolded him, “Shut up.” Did he not understand the huge mess they were in? If they didn’t get shelter for the night they’d freeze to death and end up like Jack Nicholson’s character at the end of the movie ‘The Shining’.

 

“I got to the only door of that mystery that was yet to be unlocked,” Sherlock said triumphantly, “Now, after noting one thing inside this cottage, I have managed to open that door. Selling the Rana’s fortunes would have been dangerous and pointless as they have built-in trackers. Plus their pics are already in every paper, every police force, every intelligence agency across the world. Your chances of getting caught in case of such a sale is very high, right?”

 

Jim snorted, “Right Einstein, go on!”

 

“Therefore you used the Abbott as a distraction by pegging a threat to his life and got your men to cull out the biggest diamonds from the one and only ‘marriage necklace’ a.k.a. ‘Jaimala’, the biggest, heaviest and if I may add….the blingiest of the diamonds. In the process you also got hold of one of the sacred scrolls from their vault, which some collector would happily pay you a fortune for. From what I know of your ways of operating, you didn’t risk your own neck to do this or use Sebastian for it, for fear of being identified. So you used a rogue member of the monastery to do this for you. Maybe one of the staff, the cooks or the accountant or the cleaners or the gardener, aha, _I think it’s the gardener who did this for you_. He was about to retire and had nothing to lose.”

 

“Except for his family.”

 

“See, I got it right.”

 

“What did you spot?”

 

“Nothing. You are wearing clothes that you usually don’t wear and it’s loose so…..”

 

“Sherly! Hush! I didn’t mean me, I meant what did you notice inside the cottage?”

 

“You mean aside from a silly pink underwear with kitten and tiger motifs on it? Why do you look so fierce? If you don’t want it spotted don’t leave it on the couch! So, I saw a pic of yours and Sebastian’s at the Camel Rock, close to the monastery. Behind you is a device which is used for long-distance communication in codes. Why would you carry a device like that to a tourist spot, that too so close to the monastery?”

 

“Wow!”

 

“You agree? I did deduce it right?”

 

“Of course I do. I see that you haven’t lost your edge since we ‘faked’ it.”

 

They had stepped so close their chests and toes were touching. The look of glee on their faces were identical to the expressions on a kid who had just discovered a new toy under his bed. “Seriously Sherlylocks, I was hoping we’d have a run-in someday. I was sooooo inquisitive about you and whatever you were up to! I heard you shot that bastard Magnussen. Well done. Well done to Mycroft too, for not sending you to…..”

 

Sherlock interrupted him, “So how is your new web? Is it bigger than the previous one? Any chances of an ‘expansion’ into England so I can chase you around once more? I miss those days when you would give me a case for a birthday present and steal my cigarettes, microscopes and bed sheets. Culverton Smith was a big baddie but nothing like you, he had predictable ways and he was fugly.”

 

Jim giggled and even blushed. John watched, wide-eyed, as the exchange took place and the two consultants greeted each other like kindergartners reunited in High School. Even the normally unflappable Sebastian seemed taken aback and…..jealous. “Kitten,” he said in a miffed tone, “I think we should tell them the compromises they need to accept if they are to stay with us here in this cottage.”

 

John watched with intense curiosity as Jim looked at his sniper and second-in-command with mild irritation, as if he was interrupted from eating his delicious meal by a single cockroach walking closer to his plate. _Oh boy, does he seem like the same ill-tempered, impulsive and dangerous hardcore criminal that he used to be! But hopefully Jim still has his rational side and would soon realize that the cockroach was right….ehm …..the colonel was right_. If they were going to stay here in the same cottage as Jim and Sebastian, they should be told upfront what the deal was going to be like because……Moriarty was Moriarty and not to be trusted. If the man could fake his death, get all charges against him dropped and start a new web, he could do _anything._

 

The Irish sing-song voice soon summarized the matter in his own way. “The privilege of not freezing your dick so much that it can be used as an icepick?” He looked at Sherlock’s crotch area and then John’s, “The privilege of sharing the same oxygen as James Moriarty? The privilege of being in the same cottage as us? I’d say there are no compromises here Tiger, there are only some very special privileges.”

 

“I’ll take my chances in the open woods,” John had a bad feeling about this and couldn’t hide his apprehensions.

 

“Ouch,” Sherlock suddenly sat down on a snow covered patio chair, clutching his ankle.

 

“Okay Moriarty,” John knew he would do anything for Sherlock, “Whatever you say, we agree.”

 

***

 

“This is far more trouble than what I had signed up for,” John grumbled, “Sharing the cottage is fine, but why share a bed?”

 

“Because there is only one bed and it’s biiiig,” Sherlock held up two hands like a child would do to show how large a crocodile in the zoo seemed.

 

“So we have to cook our own meals, each one of us taking turns,” John read from the notebook where he had jotted down all the points for easy recollection later, “The guys in the main cottage had closed this resort and totally warned the sudden and unwanted guests that they were not at their service. Great! We sleep on one bed, share a bathroom, take turns shoveling snow and also doing the bed and cleaning the dishes. And what’s this? Building a snowman?!?”

 

“Yeah, Sebby wanted to,” Sherlock pointed at the tall man who was cooking dinner in the kitchen, having chosen to take the first turn, “Said it would be fun.”

 

A rush of jealous anger coursed through John and he snarled under his breath, “So it’s Sebby now, eh?” He saw Sherlock raise his brows but not say a word in retort and, embarrassed that he had given away too much, chose to focus on another interesting point he had noted in the past hour. “Sherlock, if I am not mistaken, right after the accident you had a badly sprained ankle which brought tears of pain to your eyes if you put even a little weight on it. I dragged you half way across on a snow-raft of logs and sheets. Then Seb carried you like a baby till this cottage. However, rather interestingly, the moment you saw Jim you sprinted to the bathroom without any problems whatsoever.”

 

“I didn’t run to the bathroom _because I saw Jim_ , I ran because my bladder was full.”

 

“My question is ‘how’?”

 

“The pain had shifted to the bladder, so it’s a theory of relativity that needs to be understood here. If your bladder is aching and so is your foot, you ignore the one that’s less troublesome.”

 

“Ohhh, is it?” John couldn’t help but get sarcastic and grinned with amusement, “I assume when the bladder was all right once more, the pain would have returned to the ankle, going by your own explanation? Yeah? Then how come you started limping on the wrong foot when I chose to take my chances in the open woods? Earlier it was your right ankle, then it became your left ankle?”

 

Sherlock pouted, “You’re implying that I am lying?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes Sherlock Holmes, yes.”

 

“Then may I also ask you something I found odd? Why you called me ‘love’ and ‘baby’ after the accident, when I was dazed and not responding for a few seconds? What happened to the routine declaration of ‘I am not gay’. Do straight men call each other ‘love’ and ‘baby’?”

 

“Seb,” John rushed to the kitchen, “Need some help?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sex will happen, in a bit guys :) Won't start off with the foursome though!


	3. Sharing a bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snowstorm ravages the landscape while a 'hidden' fire ravages the four men bunkered down in the cottage.

Sherlock had not told John that he had never sprained his ankle and was actually trying to see if John cared enough about him to take care of him during troubled times. John had proved to be a great friend, colleague and co-investigator and often risked his own life to save Sherlock’s, but that was always during some case or confrontation. During breaks or lulls between cases, he had often been tempted to test John’s love and loyalty, and this was the perfect opportunity for doing so.

 

He watched as Sebastian and John cooked together. He could smell a soup cooking and hear butter sizzling in a pan. The two former military comrades chatted on as they worked together, John chopping something and Sebastian stirring the bubbling liquid in the pot.

 

Suddenly they heard loud knocks, followed by serious hammering on the door of the cottage, and Sebastian called out ‘Sherlock can you get that?’ In Baker Street Sherlock would have never obeyed. He was sitting on a comfy chair and thinking right? He was busy! Why was his solitude and rest being interrupted, why were his thoughts being derailed? But then this was the middle of nowhere, they were surrounded by harsh nature with a blizzard beating down on them, and cottage, after all, belonged to Jim and Sebastian first. “Oh all right I will,” he said in a mumbled voice and got up as the hammering continued, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, opening it now. Stop the hammering for Christ’s sake.”

 

He opened the door to find a small, cute, snow-beast standing there.

 

“I….um….this thing wants to come in,” Sherlock turned and looked in the direction of the kitchen doorway, “This…um….thing!”

 

Correction! It was no snow-beast but Jim Moriarty covered from top to toe with snow, which he shook off like a puppy, sending bits and pieces of snowflakes flying everywhere. Sherlock got a few of the particles on his face and chuckled, which annoyed Jim even more.

 

“Are you kidding me?” He snarled as he bent down to pick up a couple of boxes he had brought with himself, handing off one heavy box to Sherlock and picking up the other one in his own arms, “Instead of laughing at me you should be groveling before me and saying ‘Jim, thank you so much for doing this for us’.”

 

“You looked cute,” Sherlock said, still observing Jim’s flushed cheeks, “Oh and ‘Jim thank you so much for doing us’.”

 

Jim’s eyes widened, “Bloody virgin! Doing this for us, not _doing us_! Though I _wouldn’t mind_ that either. How is your Johnny pet in bed?”

 

“How the fuck should I know?”

 

“Ohhhhhhyeaaaah, _got it_ , he’s cock-blocked you for _five years_??? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? And I suppose you want me to _believe_ it as well?”

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock replied, shrugging off the embarrassment he felt brimming up inside, “Believe it because _that happens to be the truth_.”

 

“Well, then, we must do something about it, shouldn’t we?” Jim asked with a wicked grin, perching on the chair along with Sherlock, “Now where were we? Oh yeah, Johnny boy! I have heard of his legendary line ‘I am not gay’ several times, especially from Irene who took you to bed once and she found out that you like the pussy far less than the rooster! She wanted John as well but he refused her, HE REFUSED IRENE, and he didn’t even have a girlfriend back then? Which straight guy refuses Irene Adler? I am bisexual and even I had a few nice rolls in the sack with her a few years ago. There is something very shifty and devious about this man’s sexual orientation and we need to fix it once and for all.”

 

“No,” Sherlock said, “No need for you to intervene. I’ll take care of that.”

 

“Like you’ve been doing for the past five years?”

 

“Sometimes things take time.”

 

“Tiger and I didn’t need time.”

 

Jim held up his right hand, fourth finger. Sherlock grabbed the small hand and long bony finger, then brought it close to his eyes to ensure he wasn’t the victim of any digitally generated illusion. Yes, it was a wedding ring, a beautiful brushed-finish white gold ring with a solitaire mounted on the bridge. “You-You have got married to your lieutenant?” He asked, not sure why he found his spirits sink a bit.

 

“Why do you think I faked my death, donated my earlier web to you, got a formal pardon from the Queen through Mycroft and left England for good?”

 

Sherlock remained quiet. He had already noticed that ‘look’ in Sebastian’s eyes, one which screamed ‘That man is mine’ loud and clear to everyone. While he was happy for Jim, especially since he saw how good the sniper had been for him, it also made him rue the lack of such a figure in his own life. He had John but there was an invisible line drawn between them, a line he couldn’t cross and John didn’t want to cross.

 

“He’s been good for you,” the detective observed, “You’re much better now than I remember.”

 

“What was wrong with me back then, huh?” Jim’s eyes narrowed and glowed like burning coals.

 

“You were a little mad.”

 

“How dare…….”

 

“Sherlock,” John stood a few feet from them, eyes on the two men and his mouth twisted to one side in a weird show of annoyance and _‘something else’_ , “May I ask why, _despite so many chairs, ottomans, couches, bed,_ is Jim Moriarty sitting on your lap?”

 

Only then did Sherlock notice himself perched on a cushy armchair next to the stone fireplace, with Jim sitting across his knees and grinning from ear to ear. The slip-up in his behavior stunned him to no end. _When did that happen and how did I not even realize it? Does this mean I do have some feelings for Jim, especially sexual? No, not really, it’s nice to have an intellectual equal but he tried to vilify me and kill me, he can’t be my love interest……could he? Or maybe just sexual interest?_ Sherlock was so busy thinking and analyzing that he didn’t put any effort in moving Jim off his lap. John huffed out an annoyed breath, literally slammed down the bowl of popcorn on the low-table next to them and walked off into the kitchen with a scowl on his face.

 

“Now that is what’s called ‘very mad’,” Jim said with evident relish.

 

“Why did you do this?” Sherlock pointed at all of Jim, “Why are you still sitting on my lap?”

 

“It’s comfy.”

 

“But John…..”

 

“Then let him admit he is jealous and wants you to himself.”

 

Sherlock blinked, “You did this on purpose???”

 

“Yeah,” Jim quipped, swinging his legs like a child, “Some people admit to their secret desires, some suppress them, some need another person to influence them and then dig them out, horses for courses you see. The best way to get John to own up is by making him so jealous and uncomfortable that he’ll begin to wonder if you’re letting him go. Believe me, confused souls like him fear being pushed away.”

 

“But-But….so many women have pushed him away.”

 

“You’re not just any woman….man…..I mean, person. Okay, you get what I mean, right?”

 

Sherlock nodded. “Are you game then?” Jim’s eyes glittered with unspoken exciting plans, “Shall we start a new game during this snow-storm interlude?”

 

“Only on one condition,” Sherlock said and Jim felt something jerk beneath his bum, between Sherlock’s legs. He grinned, realizing what was happening down there and nodded in agreement. In his usual baritone, Sherlock added, “I get to fuck Richard Brook.”

 

Sherlock watched with evident satisfaction as even the scandalous, potty-mouth Jim looked like he had just swallowed a frog.

 

***

 

Sebastian had a deep, dark, closely guarded secret which was probably the only one he had not shared with Jim yet. But now it began to seem rather impossible to keep it in, especially with the object of that desire being so close by. To distract himself he decided to throw in some dessert, a French recipe he knew that could be whipped up in a jiffy.

 

Dinner comprised of a thick soup with peas, carrots, potatoes and some beef in it, flavored with garlic, pepper, lemon, rock salt and cinnamon. It was hearty and flavorful and along with it was a homemade bread (Jim had gone out to fetch some supplies from the resort kitchen, the bread being one item and alcohol being the other) laced with garlic and cilantro butter and some caramelized apple for dessert. Everyone except Sherlock dug in with gusto, even Jim who didn’t heap his bowl or plate with huge portions but ate normally from the small portions he had served himself. Sherlock kept playing with the peas and carrots and beef slices, lining them up on one side and pushing the soupy liquid on the other. He even stuck a slice of bread in the middle of the bowl, like a wall.

 

John had prompted Sherlock to eat a couple of times but the detective had not even listened to the man. Jim had initially grinned at John’s peeved expression, only to get super-angry himself when he addressed Sherlock and got no reply. Sherlock was doing what he usually did when he was forced to sit down for dinner at the table, he went into his mind-palace and kept playing with his food, giving people the impression he was doing something with the meal served to him. The good doctor was used to this but Sebastian and Jim were not. Before John could kick Sherlock’s ankle under the table and ask him to eat, Jim had picked up a knife already.

 

“No, kitten, no,” Sebastian took the knife away, “You promised me, remember?”

 

“Did I?”

 

“Oh yeah, absolutely.”

 

“Hmmffff. But remember this, he is neglecting and wasting the food that you spent two hours cooking and the kind of food that would feed ten underprivileged children in this very country.”

 

John squawked out with shock as Sebastian, whose face had turned red with rage, pulled his handgun out and placed the end of the nozzle right between Sherlock’s eyes. This brought the detective back from his mind-palace but he was having such a delicious ‘moment’ in there, that it took him a full minute to get his orientation and focus back. “What did I do?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

 

“Eat or I shall serve you your own brains,” Sebastian insisted, “People are starving to death and here we have you, we need to repeatedly request you to chew and swallow your food???!!! Disgusting, selfish and very brat-like, which I am not going to tolerate here. Got that Holmes?”

 

Jim looked gleeful but also watchful. He hadn’t anticipated things to escalate this far. John was at the edge of his chair. All said and done, Sherlock was his friend and he didn’t want him hurt. But Sherlock stunned all three of them by moving his face closer to Sebastian’s and whispering, “As you command Colonel!”

 

***

 

Bed time arrived and the four men lingered around the fire for some time before deciding to call it a night. Jim was the first one who went to the huge king-size bed and flopped down on it. In a few moments Sebastian also joined him under the covers and Sherlock and John were sure they could hear some sounds of kissing and heavy breathing! Awkward, unprepared for this and embarrassed to the skin, they walked around in circles in the sitting room. At one point John tried to see if they could sleep on the couch or divan but those were too narrow, too low, too hard, and not really a comfortable place you’d wanna lie down on. “Guess we have to go in there,” he said with a sigh.

 

“You sleep on the edge,” Sherlock said, “You seem really uncomfortable. I’ll take the inner berth, next to Jim, I think.”

 

“No, no need to take the spot next to Jim,” John said immediately, almost spitting out the words, and regretted it instantly. Did he just come across as a very jealous and possessive boyfriend? Well, maybe! _But why live a lie?_ Sherlock was a man, a good-looking single man who had every right to seduce, court or date anyone he wanted. It wasn’t John’s place, as a friend and colleague, to stop him from doing so. “Um, I am sorry,” he said as Sherlock’s eyes briefly widened at the earlier words John had used, “I mean you’ve a history with him and while a lot of water has flown under the bridge since then, why not observe him for at least a day or two?”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

They used the bathroom first and changed into their night clothes, John into shorts and T shirt and Sherlock into pajamas with nothing on his upper torso. The moment they stepped into the bedroom, both turned a hundred and eighty degrees and stepped back out. “Ehm…..” John’s ears were beetroot red, “They’re both naked.” Sherlock added effortlessly, “Not just that….. They’re fucking,”

 

“I-I think….we’ll sleep here, on the rug, maybe?”

 

“Rubbish Jawn. I am going into the bedroom. If I _have to share_ a bed with two horny criminals who also happen to be very sexy and handsome, then I might as well make the _most of it_ and collect some data on how a mastermind and a sniper ‘bone’.”


	4. I thought you said 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The virgin gets Richard Brook. John gets pangs of jealousy. Sebastian intervenes and plays love-guru.

Sherlock had never had gay sex. He had routinely and almost mechanically fucked three women (mostly for cases he needed their help to solve) and once got into a lovemaking session with Irene Adler’s whip (he was sure the whip had touched him much more than her hands). But this, whatever he saw before his eyes, made him wonder whether he had underestimated the prowess and pull of physical intimacy and sexual release.

 

Jim was on all fours, holding on to the headboard with both hands while Sebastian was on his knees between Jim’s spread legs, buried balls deep in the Irishman and whipping his hips back and forth to fuck him hard and deep.

 

Mesmerized by the sight of Sebastian’s rock solid thighs, his rippling biceps and narrow but muscular hips Sherlock found himself crawling into bed so he could watch from a closer angle. His hands and mouth felt strangely tempted to touch and taste this man, riveted at the sight of the golden skin stretched over his bones like a lickable caramel coating and the subtle play of sinew under the deliciously tanned skin. He felt a strange tingle in his arse and a corresponding twinge between his legs. With shaking fingers he touched the side of Sebastian’s body, feeling the thrum and jolt of the man’s movements and excitement. Sebastian, too engrossed in making love to Jim, didn’t even realize the touch.

 

_God, I want this man. He smells great, looks good, he would be Heaven._

_But I also want to fuck Richard Brook. Then do a 69 with Jim._

_Above all, I want to be fucked by John. After five years he better take a decision!_

 

_Jim told me his plan, I made additions to it, so it’s our plan now! I better just deep dive into this and then……_

 

“Sherlock what are you doing?” John’s hand grabbed his and pulled him back just as he was about to get on top of Sebastian Moran.

 

“I….ehm……I……” his masculinity still searching between Jim’s legs and his needs still concentrated on the enormous endowment of the Colonel Moran, he only manager to stammer out some broken words in response.

 

“Okay, here’s what we shall do. We get into bed once they finish, then face the other way and try to fall asleep. Don’t go too near them or you’d get a painful elbow in the eye or a slap to the chest. Do you think they are even in their senses right now?”

 

“Mmmm, no.”

 

When he heard the dreamy, almost lusty tone, John gave a sharp side-eye to Sherlock and frowned slightly. Sherlock’s expression when he was pulled back from the two men, his voice just now, they all indicated a humungous amount of interest in the two criminals. In fact, it seemed as if he was keen to get into the thick of things, join those two.

 

Jim let out a shriek at climax, which sounded like a cry of pain and a scream for help at the same time. Sherlock startled, showed them a clean pair of heels and rushed out of the bedroom while John was also left shocked by the intensity of that cry. However, when he saw just how pleased the smaller man seemed, he knew that those noises Jim had just made had to be the sounds of an extremely pleased, extremely sated man. Jim was, by no means, hurt or injured.

 

Sebastian’s hips worked up a frenzy and then stilled, as his body shuddered and his back bowed. Moments later John saw a trickle of his semen dripping between Jim’s legs, lacing his balls and dripping on to the sheets. He squirmed, wondering how it had come to a point where watching his former army superior fuck another man silly, that too a criminal mastermind, was beginning to do strange things to him. He pegged it down to his lack of sex-life in the past three months. They had been so busy with detective work, travel and John had the additional responsibility of his patients, that the doctor had not even had the time or inclination to date some woman or bring her home later.

 

He found himself raging hard by the time Sebastian fell on the bed, effectively on top of Jim who squealed and then laughed. “Get into bed pet,” Jim giggled, still buried under Sebastian, “Unless you plan to sleep standing up, like a horse.”

 

John did.

 

Sebastian seemed rather drained and lazy from in the aftermath and slowly moved off Jim, lying on his front on the other side of the bed. He pulled Jim closer, kissed him and settled down to sleep. John heaved a sigh of relief as the colonel pulled the sheets over himself, hiding most of his nudity. Jim promptly lay on his back next to Sebastian, then patted the empty spot next to himself and asked, “Doctor Watson, where’s Sherly?”

 

The bedroom door opened and in rushed Sherlock. He held a tray of ice cubes.

 

Two pairs of eyes looking quizzically at him. “This will help soothe the place,” he explained awkwardly, not holding Jim’s gaze, “If it stings too much due to the stretch. I can also run a hot bath, for you to soak in. Taking that huge thing up the tail isn’t easy…….”

 

“Shut up and come to bed virgin.”

 

“Oh…..okay, sure, will do.”

 

Sherlock let John take the side spot on the bed and lay in the middle, between the doctor and the consulting criminal. But he had no idea the kind of captivating desire and sheer dominance Jim would unleash that night.

 

***

 

Sherlock woke to an exquisite feeling between his legs and something hard poking him in the cheek.

 

At first he was still half-asleep and couldn’t remember where he exactly was, but as the mists of slumber cleared and several bolts of pleasure shot up his abdomen and down to his thighs, his brain jolted into gear and made him remember it all. Oh yes, he was in bed with Sebastian, Jim and John and now….the same Jim was between his open legs, the dark head bobbing up and down as he sucked Sherlock’s cock like a popsicle. Sherlock had just opened his mouth to shout out his pleasure when Jim abruptly covered it with his palm. “Shhhh, Sherlylocks! No need to wake them. Do you wanna do this with me and then fuck Richard?”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said, involuntarily raising his hips to push further up Jim’s throat, “Yes, oh yes! YES!” The sucking motions on his cock increased almost immediately in tempo and intensity and he began to move his hips in the same rhythm, fucking Jim’s sweet hot mouth. The slightly rough rubbing of Jim’s stubble on the sensitive smooth flesh of his inner thighs proved to be a maddening sensation for Sherlock. He pushed his legs in so as to feel more, rolled his hips slightly to feel his cock nudge every corner of Jim’s talented mouth, and grabbed the headboard much like Jim had done a few hours ago.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed, closing his eyes and enjoying the way he was moving towards Orgasm.

 

“No!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“My darling Sherly, I thought you meant 69?”

 

“Ah yes, turn over…..I mean turn around then!”

 

Jim did as he was asked and, when Sherlock’s mouth closed over his erection, he muffled a considerable loud wail into his pillow.

 

After a while he observed Jim’s ministrations on his cock. _Gosh, it looks so sexy I could cum from just watching him._ Jim looked quite the sight for sore eyes, his dark hairs slightly scruffy and spiked up, his skin a total contrast in peaches and milk, his lips red and luscious and stretched out over the detective’s cock, a line of drool dripping off his chin as he continued to pleasure his Sherlock.

 

“Oh-Oh-Ohhhhhhh,” Sherlock hissed in just a few minutes, having never had the kind of experience or practice needed to extend this for some more time, “Oh fuck Jimmy…..you’re cumming in my mouth.”

 

The first taste of his lover took him by surprise but somehow he didn’t find the taste unpleasant or repulsive. He didn’t want to spit it out. He swallowed the load and kept one of his free hands on Jim’s crown of hairs, finally able to concentrate on his own needs. Jim was groaning and whining alternately, sounding as if in pain one moment and in total ecstasy the next. Despite this being only about ‘sex’, Sherlock found himself stroke Jim’s cheek and hairs and soothe him as he came down from the high.

 

Soon the fellatio continued for him and Sherlock’s hips began to rise and fall. It didn’t take long and a sharp pain rose up his hand when Jim scratched into the back of his palm to keep the sounds down while Sherlock’s cock jerked and exploded into the Irishman’s mouth. The detective in turn bit into his other fist as he struggled to breathe, shaking from top to toe like a leaf in the eye of a storm. His legs thrashed about and the heels rubbed up and down on Jim’s naked butt before Sherlock dug them into the soft yet pert mounds of flesh. Dazed, unable to believe he had just done a 69 _and that too with Moriarty_ , Sherlock’s intentions were to surrender to the pulls of sleep and close his eyes. But something happened that made him nearly sit up instead and yelp.

 

“Shhhhh,” Jim said, sitting on his lap.

 

“You-You’re sitting on my thing,” Sherlock gasped.

 

“Yeah, so? That’s called sex.”

 

“But you’re sitting on my ….. um, dick! It’s fully gone in.”

 

“Sherly, talk like that and I will lose my erection. You wanna fuck Richard Brook or not?”

 

“Oh yeah, may I?”

 

Jim nodded. Sherlock braced himself for the ‘ride’ to start.

 

What he was absolutely not prepared for was the sexy yet slightly rough way Jim moved, his gorgeous brown eyes simmering with the expression of wicked glee and lascivious need. He seemed to have wanted this as much as Sherlock had and once again the detective remembered the words Jim often used while he was ‘officially’ alive and locking horns with him in London. “You’re me.”

 

With his hairs mostly standing on their ends, his stubble a bit pronounced, he looked so much like the pretty, dewy-eyed jobbing actor Richard Brook that Sherlock felt his flesh leap inside the tight cavern of the smaller man. “Ahnnn, yeah!” Jim cried out, closing his eyes temporarily and exposing his long neck by throwing his head back, “You’re getting so big and hard inside me, you’re ripping me into two, Sherlockkk!”

 

Sherlock remembered cumming but nothing afterwards. Darkness closed in from all sides and he barely managed to register Jim’s seed springing forth and hitting his chest before the latter fell down atop him. He slept so deeply that he didn’t even turn an inch for the next nine hours.

 

***

 

“What’s up John, you seem to be up bright and early this morning?” Sebastian asked cheerfully as he padded into the kitchen where John Watson was already cooking breakfast and brewing some tea. He wore a pair of navy track pants, a full sleeved T shirt in grey, a black bomber jacket over it and fluffy socks with Nepalese colorful sandals on his feet. “It’s nine-fifteen am,” John replied in a tired voice, filling two cups and handing one to Sebastian before sipping from his own, “Not exactly the hour we call ‘bright and early’ in England. But this bloody snowstorm makes it look like 5-30 am for sure.”

 

“Last night was difficult for you, wasn’t it?” Sebastian asked with empathy in his voice, “First Jimmy and I went at it, then I am sure I heard Jimmy with Sherlock as well. Multiple interruptions to a nice and long nocturnal slumber, which I am sure you badly needed last night, are annoying. But it is what it is. Jim and I have an active sex-life and Sherlock and Jim had a longstanding attraction towards each other, so this is bound to happen every night John.”

 

“It was not so much about interrupted sleep or seeing someone have sex,” John gripped the handle of his tea cup so tight that Sebastian wondered how long before he severed it from the body, “I am not exactly the kind of prude you probably assume I am. Nope. I admit seeing you like that…..naked and doing Jim, the most powerful man in the world, that was actually quite a turn-on. But then…..Sherlock and Moria….I mean Sherlock and Jim went at it and I suddenly felt as if someone was gutting me like a fish. I had woken up and from the sounds I heard I knew what was going on, still I lay silent and immobile as a stone, facing away from them and ‘watched’ them with closed eyes.”

 

“Watched them with closed eyes,” Sebastian snorted. John looked offended, “Did I say something funny?”

 

“No. But you know what it sounds like?”

 

“No. What does it sound like? I am upset, angry, weirded out.”

 

“Nah. None of that. It smells, seems and sounds like jealousy to me!!!”

 

John nearly fell off his chair, shaken thoroughly by the allegation. Yet, a part of him wanted to accept it. This man is on to something, he thought solemnly, even as he began to protest. “Are you joking colonel? Jealous? Me? Of whom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foursome will take a couple more chapters!


	5. Chats and discussions and compresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “WHY IS HE ON YOUR LAP AGAIN?”
> 
> John gets a bit twitchy

Sebastian gave him a curious glance, “Joking? Am I now? Well, from what I have observed you’re making the same mistake I did when I first started working for Jim. I was a heterosexual predator, changing women in my bed like I changed shirts on my body or the drinks in my glass. But nothing seemed to satisfy me. All I kept thinking about was this sexy little Irishman whose irrigated set of brains were so powerfully attractive that everything else paled in comparison.”

 

“I am not attracted to Jim,” John said in a small voice, “I am scared of him, to be honest.”

 

“Appreciate that confession because it’s better to be self-aware. As for fearing Jim, are there any who aren’t afraid of him? Even I am, sometimes. Yes, people should be scared of Jim because despite him getting much better than the lowest points he had reached about five years ago, he is still very much the diabolical man whose cruel side can rear his head any time. So don’t push him over the limit, ever. But I don’t think you’re in love with my Jimmy. No sir, you are not. It’s the other skinny motor-mouth genius I am talking about here. A certain Englishman named William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the same detective who you are ready to love, live or die for.”

 

“Stop, please stop. I am not……”

 

“I also say sometimes, I am NOT too tall. But yeah, I am. Better be self-aware, remember?”

 

“Seb, I have never…..”

 

“When was the first time you fucked a girl?”

 

“Eighteen.”

 

“Just because you didn’t fuck one before, did it make you gay by default?”

 

“No, why should it be so? That’s so silly….um…..eh? Yeah, I get what you mean. Yes, yes, yes, I do like Sherlock a lot. I love him. But I am not sure I can be the man he wants me to be. What if he doesn’t see anything good in me…..in bed? What if he doesn’t even find me sexy? He may not like me naked or might not want to be intimate with me. I have been rejected before and I have done a fair bit of rejections myself but if Sherlock…..”

 

Sebastian gave him a knowing smile, “If he rejects you, it’s the end of John Watson. Now, if that is not love then what is? But it’s stupid to not let him know about your feelings, just because you don’t want to lose him.”

 

John’s tea had gone cold. “Let me get you another one,” Sebastian got up with his empty cup, “I need one more too. The geniuses are asleep. Soon they will wake up and mayhem’s gonna start. Just imagine these two ‘easily-bored’ people in a tiny cottage, snowed-in completely?”

 

***

 

Sherlock woke up lazily, feeling more refreshed and happier than ever before. His body seemed relaxed, totally at ease and comfortable and his mind, for once, was neither full nor tainted by boredom. Despite not even a case in sight, despite having no reason to wake up and get out of bed, he felt energized and very cheerful. He couldn’t wait to start the day!

 

He rolled over and almost immediately was pushed away with a disgruntled sound. “Moriarty?” He murmured, “What are you doing in my bed?”

 

A hard smack landed on his bare bum and he yelped, then started to giggle. “All these years and you can’t take a joke,” he whispered, baritone raspy from his just-woken state. He reached out and touched Jim’s bare thigh, pulling him closer, “Now will you tell me what you’ve been up to these days? From what I have deduced, you were here for the diamonds. You have lifted a few priceless items of late but only from the collectors, most of whom buy stolen goods. So in a way it’s like robbing the unlawful idiots. I also heard that you’ve been contributing actively to three causes, those of the neglected girl children of the third world, developing new vaccines and wildlife conservation. So from these tendencies, may I suggest a new name for you? Robin Moriarty or Jim Hood, take your pick.”

 

“I am making money, expanding my network and satisfying my intellectual cravings, that’s all,” Jim yawned wide.

 

Sherlock put his fingers in Jim’s mouth and got a bite. “Ouch, I think I get why you’re trying to protect wild life. You’re one of them so you’re supporting your own kind.”

 

A razor blade was at his throat the next moment and Jim looked so much like his former self, a demonic, malevolent look in his eyes which suddenly made Sherlock wish he was not alone in the room with this ‘creature’. But as soon as fear flashed in his eyes, Jim began to laugh. “Oooooh, your face! You should have seen your face Sherly! Anyways, you should be nice to me or else…..”

 

“You throw me and poor John out in the bitter cold and hazardous snowstorm?”

 

“No. That would be too easy. I’ll simply say ‘Hands off my Sebby’.”

 

That comment made him real uneasy and Sherlock went so quiet after that, that all they could hear in the room were the sounds of snowflakes pattering on the window panes and Jim’s breathing. “Hey, hey!” Jim raised himself on his elbows and looked into his former nemesis’ face, “I did notice how you kept looking at him from time to time, mostly at those lower parts. You want him, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a huge exhale, the cat was out of the bag, “I feigned an ankle sprain for different reasons but then he appeared and carried me here and during that journey…..it was so peculiar, I felt like someone had kidnapped me and was taking me to a secluded place somewhere so they could fuck me.”

 

Jim came closer, “It turned you on, eh, eh?” His eyes were rolling about in the sockets as if it was marbles churned in a bowl. He could see Jim was getting hyperactive in his mind. He knew because he had such moments too, moments when he felt powerful and restrained at the same time. “C’mon,” Jim put his arms around Sherlock and cooed, “I am sure it doesn’t need so much afterthought!!!”

 

Sherlock shyly nodded at last, not really having the right words now. He was constantly shocking himself and the various ways his sexuality was manifesting itself through his words, behavior, actions and thoughts. It was like a tightly bolted door in his mind-palace that had just been left a little ajar, letting streams and beams of light through. Those beams of light were none other than his own realizations and the aftershocks of those, and each time his brain cried aloud _‘Oh I could have actually done that!!!’_ It was like rediscovering himself in a whole new way, seeing himself from a very different perspective. He felt his pulse quicken and a sweet heat emanate from his ears and loins. _Are these parts connected in some way, why is this happening to me?_

 

“Stop making everything complex,” Jim kissed his chin and Sherlock shivered, “Stop assigning scientific elements to every human emotion. You can be a genius without living a warped lifestyle or holding a weird conception about yourself.”

 

“Great, now I am weird? Then you’re a freak!”

 

“I agree. But I am no longer a freak. And I live a normal life now.”

 

“Just because you have a husband.”

 

“Why don’t you have one then?”

 

“WHY IS HE ON YOUR LAP _AGAIN?_ ”

 

Sherlock yelped.

 

John stood glowering at them with a tray full of food in his hands. Hearing him snap, Sebastian also came in, looked at them and showed two thumbs-up signs, the quietly went outside again. John on the other hand seemed angry enough to turn purple and or a second Sherlock felt he would hurl the tray at him. It was only Moriarty’s presence and fears of a ‘Semtex’ vest that kept him from doing so.

 

“Y-Yeah,” he looked at Jim, wondering how it happened without him noticing, _again_ , “Why?”

 

“You know what, choke on this,” John put the tray down next to the two men and walked out of the room in a huff.

 

“Croissants, poached eggs sunny side up, apple juice, tea, bacon, yummm,” Jim slurped, least bothered by John’s behavior. But Sherlock was decidedly testy and uncomfortable. After almost a full minute, Jim looked at him and said, “Just hang in there. He will break very soon. It’s time for Dr. Watson to man up and say ‘Sherlock I don’t want you getting close to any other man because I am the man for you’. It will happen, trust me!”

 

***

 

“Brrrrrrrr, so cold, hhssshhhh, t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t,” Jim made all sorts of shaky noises. It was late afternoon and he was shivering hard, teeth chattering at the same time. His nose had turned a bit blue and he looked like an ice cube encased in layers and layers of blankets and clothes. Still they couldn’t warm him up! There was a good reason behind his current condition, his own stupid stubbornness. He had, _as usual_ , defied all requests and weather warnings and gone out to fetch more logs for their fireplaces. The blizzard had taken its toll on him and even hot soup couldn’t put the color back on his cheeks. “Get him a hot Toddy, I think,” Sebastian said as he watched Jim with some concern, “It’s been thirty minutes and he hasn’t thawed yet.”

 

“You can strip him naked and warm him up with your body,” Sherlock was already unbuttoning his coat.

 

“Wait, stop,” John said curtly, deciding resolutely that the two ‘tall oak trees’ were not going to start a make-out session in guise of helping Jim. “Hands off your coat and any other clothes you’re wearing. No need for gratuitous stripping. I am the doctor. I know what to do.” He literally pushed Sebastian and Sherlock out of the way and removed the blankets from Jim’s body, deftly avoiding a blow the man had feebly thrown at him. “Go on,” he handed two of the blankets to Sebastian, “Heat these with the steam iron and bring them back to me, just two of them, okay?” He turned and groaned, “Sherlock, for the last time, WHY IS JIM MORIARTY ON YOUR LAP?”

 

“Um….he is cold?”

 

“Sitting on your clothed lap is not going to help.”

 

“In that case…..”

 

“Okay, poor choice of words. Just….let the expert do the right there here. Move, in fact, I have a task for you. Get some nice hot tea for him, green tea, and a small tub with hot water in it.”

 

“That’s too much movement…..okay, fine, I’ll do it.”

 

The moment Sherlock was gone, John’s eyes fell on Jim who, even in his weakened state, glared ferociously at him. “What is it Mr. Moriarty?” He asked, trying not to show how scared he was to be alone in the room with him, “You seem upset. I am trying to help you.”

 

“Your dick better be bigger than Sherlock’s and Seb’s. You just said you’ll do the needful since you are the doctor……why are you laughing at me?”

 

John moved away a bit more when Jim once again tried to swing a blow at him. Still laughing, he explained, “You know, you can understand my methods a lot better and handle your situation more effectively if you stop thinking about ‘sex’. I meant I’d be looking after you as a doctor, not ‘I’ll fuck the illness or discomfort’ out of you. See, you’re suffering from a mild form of hypothermia where your body temperature has dropped a little too much and is below the normal levels that a human body should be at. What we need to do is get you out of these clothes so the warmed blankets touch your skin, apply warm dry compresses to your chest and groin and give you something warm to drink, but decaffeinated and non-carbonated. Hence, green tea.”

 

Jim gave him a strange look.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not as stupid as Sherlock suggested.”

 

“As compared to him I am. But that doesn’t mean I am a total nutcase.”

 

“No John _, I am the nutcase_. It’s not like I ain’t aware of what I used to be, of what I could potentially be if I am left to my own devices without meds and therapy. No, I am very self-aware. You asked me why I needed sex to heal? Whenever it got too noisy in my head I would ask Sebby for sex. It made me fall asleep or at least took my mind off suicidal thoughts. That’s why he goes for the ‘same solution suits all’ kind of treatment.”

 

John looked at Jim and for the first time saw a slightly unwell, compromised man who had suffered a great deal and then unleashed the same hell upon others. While his crimes could never be justified or forgiven, he felt a little less resentful of Moriarty as ‘Jim’ became more evident to him. If he had got help earlier and grown up normal, this man could easily rival Sherlock in the fields of criminal investigation and profiling, perhaps score some aces in the field of science and technology.

 

“Now why are YOU looking at me like that, pet?” Jim snickered. Sherlock had got tea and hot compresses for Jim by then.

 

“No, nothing,” John smiled as he instructed Sherlock, “Okay, let’s give Jim the warm compresses. But avoid the legs and arms, or they will push more cold blood to the heart and that doesn’t help the cause. Put them on the neck, chest, stomach and groins.”


	6. A good initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh that’s Sherlock’s……”

When night arrived and bedtime approached, the Baker Street boys found to their surprise that Sebastian and Jim were already under the covers and reading books. Sherlock and John got into bed too, with Sherlock giving the two men long, scrutinizing looks. John picked up his own book before he asked, “So are you guys off meat tonight?”

 

“No,” Sebastian said.

 

“Science of deduction Jawn,” Sherlock stated in his usual hoity-toity voice, “Their clothes are not kept neatly on the back of chairs nor tossed properly into the laundry basket. They are lying on the rug, floor and at the edge of the chair-seats. Sebastian is an army-man and likes order and neatness so he would never do this unless he was in a hurry, a rush of raging hormones perhaps. So it’s clear they had a heated moment that culminated into passion later, because I see wadded up tissues in the trash can, the evidence of their release wiped off before we came in. One more thing that convinces me they were at it, Jim is drinking water. He gets thirsty after sex, so there…….”

 

“Oh God you showoff,” Sebastian sneered.

 

“Just sniff the air John,” Jim said, “You’ll smell sex.”

 

“Hey, I am famous for this,” Sherlock pouted.

 

“Then impress the ordinary people,” Jim scoffed, “Don’t try that with me. Won’t work.”

 

“So what impresses you?”

 

“People being their authentic selves. Repressed people choosing not to be repressed all their lives. People not lying to themselves. People who aren’t afraid of change. Homophobic men realizing that who sleeps in your bed doesn’t determine how tough or virile you are.”

 

There was stunned silence in the room for some seconds. Then suddenly, Sebastian got out of bed and grabbed Jim’s arm. “Hey, c’mon,” he said as he wrapped his lover in a robe, “I think I need some alone time with you so let’s get on to the couch and spend some time cuddling there. Jimmy, Jim, James, BOSS, come on, read my face, come on, okay if you don’t want to take the hint, let me spell it out…..give these two some time and space to consummate their relationship.”

 

“Oh….” Jim yawned, “I am sleepy. Explains why I’m a bit slow.”

 

“No,” Sebastian was heard saying as he carried Jim out of the room, “If you can get Sherlock’s cock out of your mind I am sure you’d be your true genius self again.”

 

“I AM ALWAYS A GENIUS YOU MOTHERFUCKER….MMMMFFFF….MMMM……wow……yeah.”

 

Sherlock nervously laughed, eyes fixed on the wall at the foot of the large bed, “They’re very entertaining, both of them, aren’t they? Never a dull moment when they’re around, we gotta admit that. Right….! So then….” He paused and looked around the empty room, “We can start with….start with, oh boy…..”

 

“Start with letting me see what’s hidden under these?” John said softly, deciding to put an end to Sherlock’s implicit misery as the younger man struggled to make the right approach. When Sherlock dutifully obeyed and let John strip him, the good doctor wondered for a moment as to why he had overlooked something so obvious, so pleasurable, so intimate, for so long. Sherlock lying there, blushing cheeks and his entire body flushed a soft pink, it was the most enticing, most beautiful sight in the world. John dragged his nails over the smooth, marble like skin and watched, mesmerized, as goose bumps rose on the pale flesh and Sherlock’s legs closed together, crossed at the ankles.

 

“Beautiful,” he gasped. He knew his voice sounder heavier, huskier, and Sherlock covered his crotch with both hands, as if trying to stop his core parts from reacting. But they did react and John could plainly see how aroused his Sherlock was.

 

“J-Jawn…..” Sherlock closed his eyes, now red as a tomato.

 

“Don’t you want to see me too?” John queried gently.

 

“Y-Yeah, yes, I want….to!”

 

“Keep your eyes closed then. I’ll tell you when you should open them.”

 

“Hnnnnnn!”

 

In less than a minute John gently urged him to open his eyes and when Sherlock did so, his jaw dropped to the floor. For years he had fantasized about the man he lived with, worked with, spent most of his waking moments with, creating various images of the doctor in his mind palace. A half-naked John as Triton, a quarter-naked John as a gladiator, a full naked John as a Greek warrior, but none of them even measured up to the ‘reality’ he was presented with. The quiet, unassuming and modest John had a good body and was quite sexy indeed. Muscles in the right places, skin smooth and stretched firm over an athletic bone structure and his…..

 

“Cock,” Sherlock croaked.

 

“Excuse me?” John blinked, then looked downwards, “Um, yes, it is…..”

 

“So big?”

 

“Does that please you?”

 

“It’s a bit….I am a bit…..just a bit…..”

 

John understood certain things as he watched the arrogant cocky bastard of a sleuth shrink into his own shadow like a cub hiding behind their parent. A lot of cogs moved in his brain and pieces of the puzzle locked in together to give him a much better understanding of this man, this incredibly complex and totally adorable man whom John had always loved but never expressed the same feelings properly. Sherlock found it easier to have sex with Jim because he had no expectations from the latter, neither did he fear rejection from the Irishman. But with John his feelings were different. There was a fear of losing or disappointing John, hence the hesitation in taking things forward at a fast pace. For the first time, he noticed that Sherlock could be insecure too, and _less than confident_.

 

“Scared?” He asked gently. When Sherlock nodded he replied, “Don’t be scared of me baby. I am on your side. We are one unit.”

 

“I’ll irritate or annoy you and then…..”

 

“Even if you do, nothing can be so serious that I’ll be disappointed.”

 

“You won’t leave me, right?”

 

“Sherlock,” John cupped the younger man’s face in his hands, “What’s running through that pretty brain of yours? Whatever made you feel I will leave you? I’ll never leave and I won’t ever let you go. Is that clear? Have you understood? Do you believe me?”

 

“Yes, to all,” Sherlock said in a soft voice, the look of relief on his face very obvious, “Just wanted to say you don’t have to do this…..”

 

“AHEM,” came a voice from the doorway.

 

“I mean, you don’t need to do this because someone told you…..”

 

“AHEM!”

 

“Okay, just shut up and kiss me,” Sherlock sighed, grinning by now as John threw a confused glance towards the doorway. He could see it was slightly open but it quickly closed when he saw some shadows moving there. Most likely those belonged to Jim and Sebastian and they had been hearing every word spoken in the room. John wondered for a moment if he should close the door but a strange feeling came over him and he stopped that thought right there.

 

The fact that someone was watching them made him feel even more aroused? Why? How was this even possible?

 

_You seem to have a kink, John Hamish Watson, it was always there but today it’s out and proud. You like watching and you like being watched. Now go ahead and make the most of it before a shy Sherlock says he wants the door closed._

 

He pressed his lips on to Sherlock’s, aware that their rising erections were rubbing and tapping together. At any other time he would have found it funny but that was a moment when everything about Sherlock, even the slightest sound or touch, seemed to turn him on.

 

The tentative and light kiss soon deepened as Sherlock began to make aroused noises into it, moaning and gasping and wailing into John’s mouth while his limbs jerked randomly wherever John touched him. _So delightfully responsive_ , the good doctor thought, _doting on him would be a delight_. He let his lips drag over all those points his fingers had touched and watched and listened to his lover’s undulating body and labored and irregular breathing. He kept kissing down his body, then nosed past his groin and continued down his thighs. When he reached his ankles and licked at them, Sherlock suddenly made a very distressed sound, which made John look up from his ‘task’ in alarm.

 

“Uh-Uh-Uh-Jawn….help me…..”

 

It took John half a second to realize what was happening and he grabbed Sherlock’s cock, the base of the long shaft in fact, and gave it a squeeze. But the young Englishman was closer to his orgasm than John thought because a profuse amount of milky fluid shot out of the throbbing manhood between Sherlock’s spread legs, some landing on John’s cheek, a few flying like missiles and painting Sherlock’s chin, neck, upper chest.

 

 _He’s a shooter_ , John was fascinated by that sight.

 

“Sorry…..”

 

The soft contrite voice and tone was followed by hyperventilating breaths and suddenly a sob tore out of the detective. “Hey,” John climbed up next to him and gathered him in his arms, “What happened? Did I hurt you there? I know my finger nails are due for a trim……Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock covered his face with the blanket. Soon more sobs tore out. Finally his entire frame began to shake from those sobs. “Did I hurt you?” John asked again, “Answer me please babe.”

 

When Sherlock shook his head under the sheets, the doctor realized what else could have upset him so much. It was about cumming to too soon, reducing their lovemaking to half a song! “Sherlock, it’s ok,” he tried to console the younger man as best as he could, “You have no idea how close I am too. See, these things happen, and there’s no need to feel so bad about it. Talk to me, please.”

 

“I-I f-feel inadeq-quate Jawn…..” Sherlock cried, swallowing hard.

 

“Could happen to me too,” John tried to console the overgrown baby who was sobbing hard.

 

“But it didn’t, it happened to me,” Sherlock cried out again.

 

“Sherlock, I think we need to wait for another time,” John said with a chaste kiss on his lover’s temple, “This was a good initiation, we have broken a few barriers and we got closer than we have ever been, but tonight might not be the best time to consummate our relationship. Don’t worry, the _first time_ we do this, I am sure Jim and Sebastian would leave us alone. Our first time, that has to be very special, very unique, _completely private_! This ‘small-little’ wait period of a few hours, perhaps _one day_ , doesn’t matter anymore. We know where we stand, don’t we, Sherlock?” He kissed the man on the corner of the mouth, then attacked his lips and kissed him deep and wet.

 

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the kiss, completely melting into his lover’s arms. It was a moment so blissful, so utterly lulling and happy, that neither of them even noticed Jim and Sebastian tiptoe inside. At some point they tripped over each other’s feet (they were looking so hard at the couple in bed, they forgot to look at where they were going) and there was such a loud noise that John and Sherlock jumped out of bed, both butt-naked. Sherlock’s drying semen was still clinging to his abs and chest and John sported a prominent hickey on his jaw.

 

“What’s that?” Jim pointed.

 

“Um….” John squirmed, picking up a pillow and positioning it at his groin, “Hickey?”

 

“No, on your cheek.”

 

“Oh that’s Sherlock’s……”

 

John stopped mid-sentence when he realized his faux pas. The words had slipped out rather inadvertently and he was not the sort of man who was this forward or this sexually liberated. Both he and Sherlock blushed bright red and promptly got back in bed, covering themselves to the nose with the thick blankets. Jim and Sebastian grinned at each other and said in unison “Shooter”.

 

Sometime during the night a restless John got out of bed to go to the bathroom. More than emptying his bladder, he needed to unload his balls. While Sherlock lay sleeping peacefully, having already had an orgasm, John had not had a chance to cum yet.

 

“Wise decision,” Sebastian said sleepily, raising his head from the pillow, “If you jerked off here, the whole bed would shake.”

 

“Yes,” John palmed himself to relieve some pressure, “And Moriarty would turn me into shoes.”


	7. The roof collapses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is tactless and Jim has an episode

“So, is this lunch?” John asked, cautious and curious, dismayed and disappointed, fearful and frustrated at the same time.

 

“Shush,” Sebastian tried to warn him, knowing exactly how Jim reacted whenever anybody criticized his cooking skills.

 

It was Jim’s turn to cook lunch and he had spent a couple of hours in the kitchen, not allowing anyone to come in or help him. Some odd aromas had drifted into the cottage but the three other men had chosen to ignore them, thinking Jim would eventually manage to put something edible on the table. As it turned out, the mastermind was not such a pro in the kitchen and had burned the soup, turning it into a liquid that resembled coca cola (complete with a strange-looking frothy rim on top). The salad was chopped large and clumsily and the dressing was splattered on the surface rather than mixed into it. The potato and meat pie looked good from one angle but the other angle revealed a portion undercooked, with the juices of the mincemeat still oozing out from it.

 

“I don’t mean to be rude…..” John began.

 

“Then don’t,” Sebastian warned him.

 

“We’ll still need to eat, right?”

 

“Oh yeah, yes, well……”

 

At that moment Sherlock sauntered in, distracted and buried nose deep into a book he carried in his hand. It was a book written by Jim on mathematics and the history and development of the subject over ages. He trod on Sebastian’s foot and managed to get his elbow into John’s chest. The scowling men noticed that Sherlock, still engrossed in the book, hadn’t even realized what he had done.

 

Sebastian suddenly signaled at Sherlock with his eyes, a wicked idea striking him. “Huh?” He asked, seeking John’s permission. John read Sebastian’s lip movement and his expression and gave him a thumbs up sign, then nodded hard.

 

“Um Sherlock…..”

 

“Hey Sherloooock!”

 

Sherlock’s eyes remained on the pages of the book, “Yeah?”

 

“Try the food. It was Jim’s turn to cook today. I am sure it’s something you’d love because, as you mostly mention, he is you and you are him!!!”

 

Sherlock tried to taste the soup by dipping his finger in it but John handed him a big spoon and said, “Here, taste with this. It give you a good feel of……”

 

“Phuaaack!!!”

 

Sherlock looked like he had swallowed a live hedgehog. He was about to make a comment on the soup but, just then, Jim came bouncing into the room looking rather accomplished. “C’mon guys, let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his hands in glee, “I was chewing my experimental gum while I cooked. It’s a latest invention of mine, perfected in my own lab, a gum that acts as a nerve soother, as a meal in itself, and can also keep your breath fresh for up to sixteen hours even if you munch on garlic and onions. That’s why I didn’t taste the dishes but I am sure they’re nice, and they’re freshly made and piping hot. What are you waiting for, all three of you, sit down and dig in!!!”

 

The three men looked at each other helplessly. Seeing Jim’s enthusiasm, none of them wanted to break the news to him that the food was, in fact, inedible.

 

“Sit,” Jim insisted, “Eat.”

 

“Eat?” Sebastian almost questioned, then quickly corrected himself, “Yes, of course, _eat_.”

 

They sat down and took small servings on their plates. While Jim filled his bowl with soup, the other men at the table avoided the soup and took portions of salad and pie instead, hoping that maybe the two dishes were not so bad as the soup which had already been ‘certified’ by Sherlock. They ate small economic bites of the salad and pie, eyes on their plates and expressions tightly controlled.

 

The salad was sweet. Jim had probably put sugar instead of more-suitable seasonings. It made John want to puke. The pie was undercooked and runny and a mish-mash of soggy ingredients with the crust charred on one side and raw on the other. Sebastian held his breath as he ate it. Sherlock saw Jim looking at him and took a big bite of his pie, forcing himself to gulp it down and not throw up at the table.

 

Then Jim had some soup.

 

His face turned pale. He took a bite of the pie, then a smaller one of the salad. His expression changed from happy and hungry to self-loathing and shame. His cheeks turned red, his eyes seemed hollow and his lower lip trembled as if he was about to start weeping any moment.

 

He stood up so fast and pushed the chair back so hard it toppled backwards and crashed to the ground. “Disgusting,” Jim spat out the food and the word, “This is not worth eating, not even a dog would eat this. You are all liars, LIARS,” then a soft and muted sob before adding, “Liars.”

 

Then he rushed out of the kitchen and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Soon they heard him stamping his feet on the ground, yelling, growling and throwing things.

 

“I think we should have told him the truth before he discovered it for himself,” Sherlock admonished a contrite Sebastian and an even more apologetic John, “But if I had uttered one word the two of you would have ended up yelling at me.”

 

***

 

Jim refused to come out till dinner time. Even John, who had the least reasons to worry about Jim, started to feel a bit anxious. After the initial anger and noise, everything had gone totally quiet and multiple times he urged Sebastian to go out and check through the window, but met with stiff resistance from the colonel who was very upset that Jim had chosen to ignore his repeated requests to be let in. “You know what, let him cool down on his own,” Sebastian sneered, “I pleaded for a whole hour and he didn’t budge. Very well, suit yourself, stay locked up and stay hungry, stay foolish.”

 

“More like hangry, hungry plus angry,” Sherlock said, munching on something. When the two men looked at him he shrugged, “What? I am eating that part of the pie that’s cooked well. What? I stress eat when I don’t have enough to occupy me.”

 

Sebastian waved dismissively and pressed his ear to the door, leaning against the wood and trying to hear something/anything on the other side. “Forget about him for now,” John said, sensing that Sherlock was also stressing out over Jim’s silence and angst, “Let’s find a way to get to Jim. See, irrespective of what he’s done in the past to me, my doctor’s instincts will always push me to save and serve people. Considering the past issues he has gone through, it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone for so long. Let’s try and break down the door or get in through a window or something.”

 

“Okay, let’s go.”

 

“You were just waiting for someone to tell you this, right?”

 

“Good Heavens John, stop being so perceptive.”

 

“I work with Sherlock Holmes, you know, right?”

 

The two men got out of the door and almost immediately rushed back indoors. It was so cold outside that staying out for even ten minutes meant getting to a hypothermic condition. “Coats, gloves, cap,” Sebastian announced, shivering and teeth chattering.

 

“Right,” John reached out and picked the items from the rack in the foyer.

 

When they got to the windows, they found them all bolted with the locks taken out, so people wouldn’t end up letting the snow in inadvertently. But that also posed a problem for the two men who could neither get inside through the window nor look into the room as the heavy drapes were drawn across, preventing any view of the interiors. Sebastian thought for a moment he could hear a strange clatter till he realized it was John’s teeth hammering together right next to his ear. “Stop that,” he said, “And get on the roof!”

 

“Why? Of all things…..oh, chimney!”

 

They perilously climbed on the roof, which was as caked with snow as other parts of the cottage and landscape. The problem they hadn’t anticipated was that the roofs were highly sloped and the snow piled on them was fresh and not stuck in. As they hauled themselves up, almost immediately they almost fell back down, having nearly lost their foothold at the beginning of the slope. Several chunks of snow fell off the roof on to the ground below, nearly taking both men down too. Somehow Sebastian managed to dig his heels in and hold on to John’s arm, keeping them steady till the mini-landslide continued. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s find the chimney and see if you can squeeze down through it.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“By myself?”

 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

 

“Because you’re the only one scrawny enough. Don’t worry, the fire is out. Otherwise there would have been smoke coming out from the chimney. I don’t see smoke so we’re good. At the most you will have a slightly scalded bottom from the hot embers.”

 

Before John could reply with a sarcastic response and refuse he felt the ground beneath him give away and with a shriek he plummeted several feet below. He closed his eyes and stiffened up, expecting a rather harsh landing on the wooden floor, but his landing was surprisingly soft. When he opened his eyes, he saw a hole up there in the roof, Sebastian’s anxious face sticking out of it, and fluffy blankets around him.

 

_He had broken the roof and landed on the bed._

 

He heard hard, loud and gasping laughter and turned his head. Jim was on the floor beside the bed and for the first time he saw the actual representation of ‘RoFL’ a.k.a. rolling on the floor with laughter.

 

“Oh God,” Jim said, snickering and somehow managing to sit up on the bed, “I was ready to stab the first person who tried to come inside but you did it in such a comic manner that I had to abandon my plans……don’t worry, I didn’t plan to stab a vital organ,” he pulled out a curved Nepalese dagger, kukri, from under the pillow, “Maybe the fleshy parts, like thighs, the butt, the shoulder blade.”

 

He slashed right through an apple using just one inch of the kukri blade.

 

John crawled away from him on threes and fours, alarmed and fearing for his life. The next moment something totally unexpected happened and shifted Jim’s attention from John. Half the roof caved in and the much bigger, bulkier Sebastian landed on the floor with such a huge thump that everything in the room rattled and shook and fell off their places. Jim rushed to look at Sebastian and ensure he was okay while John rather sensibly went and opened the door, getting a headbutt on the chest from Sherlock who was trying to get inside. “Oh sorry,” the detective said, stepping back and then giving the groaning John a hand up, “Heard noise and thought Jim was about to kill one or both of you. Hence was trying to get the door down….”

 

“By headbutting it?” John clutched at his chest, “Fuck, this hurts.”

 

“I was worried about you.”

 

“Really? Then why not check the roof first.”

 

“I deduced you were in the room already.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

“No need to be sarcastic. I have very good reasons to look out for your wellbeing and safety.”

 

John felt bad and gently cupped Sherlock’s cheek, “Because we’ve feelings for each other?”

 

“Yes, that too, but I actually meant…..we haven’t had proper sex yet.”

 

For once John couldn’t fault Sherlock for being brutally honest. That was on his mind too, though he was sure his love for Sherlock overrode the physical aspects of their relationship. Still, the mere prospect of sinking into Sherlock’s body and pounding him till he went into ecstasy was too tempting to ignore. Kissing and moaning sounds echoed in their ears and the Baker Street Boys realized Jim and Seb had made up already and taken matters to the bed.

 

But Sherlock put his foot down and interrupted them, pulling Jim off Sebastian’s lap. “I’ll cut you, bitch,” Jim threatened.

 

“You won’t have to cut me to torture me,” Sherlock snapped back, “If we don’t fix the roof now, tonight we shall all die of cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit absent here due to work-related pressure. Trying my best to update more often


	8. The first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JohnLock get it on, finally!

“Jawn….”

 

“Yes, I’m awake baby.”

 

“Can we….um….take this outside?” Sherlock whispered out his plea, something John himself was considering. They were next to the two consulting criminals, both out cold from the long, cold and tiring evening they had on the roof, fixing it. But even then, making love right next to the sleeping pair spooked them out and they badly wanted some privacy for their ‘first time together’. They had woken up in the middle of the night, hard as rocks and desperate for some relief. Nothing other than some spectacular orgasm was going to satiate this physical hunger and help them fall back to sleep again.

 

“Was going to say the same,” John quietly got out of bed.

 

Sherlock followed and they managed to get into the sitting room, bolting the bedroom door behind themselves. “Let’s turn on the radio or the television and turn on the electric heater,” John said, disrobing Sherlock, “Otherwise we’ll be too cold to function properly.”

 

“God, you’re so warm and nice,” Sherlock was purring and rubbing himself insistently against John’s nude body, his lush, lean frame wriggling and filling out John’s arms rather sensuously, “Please just stick it in and fuck my brains out Jawn. Get so deep in me I lose all powers of deductive reasoning, temporarily. Make me cum so many times I forget my tables and numbers. Fill me up like a back-alley hooker fills up his bag with crack!”

 

John frowned, “Who taught you this dirty tongue?”

 

Sherlock blushed, “Jim.”

 

“Seriously? Don’t let him do this to you. Be your authentic self. Just tell me what you planned to tell me.”

 

“I should?”

 

“Yeah, of course, please!”

 

“I need you like I need my magnifying glasses at a crime scene.”

 

“You know what?” John said with a ‘how did I get so stupid’ tone and look, “I think Jim taught you rather well.”

 

Sherlock, as usual, wanted to question John further but the doctor produced a small bottle of lube and Sherlock’s confused expression turned into one of horny, libidinous anticipation.

 

***

 

John was close to cumming just from fingering Sherlock. And why should he not be? He had four fingers inside his lover and Sherlock felt so warm, tight and velvety around his digits that the mere thought of putting his cock in there almost made John shoot his load. He moved the fingers in and out and Sherlock’s hips also began to rock, as he fucked himself on John’s fingers.

 

“Fuck my arse,” Sherlock parted the cheeks to further expose the now loosened hole, dark pink from intrusion, “I am ready. Do it Jawn!”

 

John withdrew the fingers of his right hand slowly and tried to lube himself up with his left hand at the same time! He managed to flick the cap open with his thumb but lost the tube from his grip, wincing as it noisily landed on the floor. “Shit,” he swore and picked it up again, squeezing the last bit of the lube on to his huge length, giving it a few tugs as he did so. He lined up the thick head against Sherlock’s hole and hesitated for a few moments. His huge girth into that tiny little opening, it would tear the poor man’s soft anus to pieces. “Jawn please,” Sherlock looked over his shoulder as he bent over the couch, still holding his cheeks apart eagerly, “Please fill me. I will be fine, just do it now!”

 

“Sure?”

 

“Mmmm. Any surer and I’ll use a toy on myself.”

 

“You have a TOY?”

 

“No, but….”

 

“But?”

 

“I sometimes use some of the items in your bag, the medical supplies bag you used before you go your license as a surgeon. You know, the general practitioner’s instruments and all that?”

 

John chuckled and slapped Sherlock’s arse, making the springy flesh jiggle and the pale skin turn read. “What?” The detective asked, “Why laughing at me?”

 

“One of those instruments go into people’s mouths, do you even know that?”  


Sherlock snickered but that sound turned quickly into a hiss when he felt John’s cock nudge his opening. He tried to block out all thoughts from his mind and simply concentrate on the moment, on feeling John deep inside him, but he couldn’t help but dive into his mind-palace for a second. He saw himself roaming through the hallways, then take some stairs, then stop next to a turret and listen.

 

He could hear someone, or rather, some people. He listened closely, yeah, there were definitely more than one people involved.

 

Curious, he climbed the curved turret stairs and came to a door at the top of the tower, behind which was the source of those interesting noises. He heard moans, pants, soft grunts, pleas, hisses and a few mumbled words.

 

Rather cautiously he tried the door handle and it immediately gave away a bit, indicating it was open and unbolted. Sherlock thought for a moment about taking a step back, retracing his steps and going back downstairs again, when a sharp cry in a familiar voice made him change his mind. He poked his head tentatively through the doorway and his eyes widened when he saw himself, his own self, like a mirror-image viewed through clear glass, in bed with three other men. With Sebastian, Jim and John, to be precise. They were all naked and engaged in a hotter than a furnace orgy with Jim on all fours, Sherlock on his knees behind him, John right behind Sherlock and buried balls deep in him and Sebastian crouching before Jim’s face, fucking his mouth insistently.

 

Suddenly he felt himself get breached and a screech left his throat. The mind-palace illusion melted away and he was back to the present moment, bent over the couch with John slowly sliding inside his tight passage, moaning with pleasure. Another cry of pain left him and John quickly cupped his mouth with one of his hands, keeping his touch light.

 

“Shhhh, Sherlock, sweetheart, breathe baby breathe!”

 

“Uhhnnn….too big, hurts!”

 

“Want me to stop?”

 

John held completely still as he spoke but his voice was tight and his legs tense, which gave away just how badly he needed to finish this. From his voice and body language Sherlock deduced that his lover was barely able to hold himself back from moving. Huge and swollen with blood, he was half inside Sherlock and throbbing from pent-up desire and anticipation. “It’s ok…..ok, just….go a bit slow…..yeah, like that, just that way,” he said in a tremulous voice, reaching around his hip to grip John’s thigh.

 

“May I?” John asked for permission, ever the graceful and considerate gentleman.

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

John bit his lip, somehow reined in his animal instincts that simply screamed into his ears, and slowly slid all the way inside. Once again he held still, reaching around Sherlock’s groin to grab his erection. Thankfully it had not faltered yet. He began to jerk it and Sherlock whined and moaned, head thrashing about, arse sticking up in the air as he pushed back on the invading man-meat. John waited for a full minute, then asked, “I’ll move now?”

 

“Yesss, yes please do!”

 

John hoped against all odds that when he slammed inside Sherlock the man wouldn’t be damaged. Despite all the bravery, intelligence and fierceness he had seen in Sherlock, he was highly worried about the detective’s fragility as well. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was really vulnerable in some way or if he was simply a bit more vulnerable than John or if this perceived fragility was purely because of John’s protectiveness towards him, but he remembered always being a bit worried that Sherlock might get hurt. From a stubbed toe to a possible bullet, John didn’t want anything to happen to his precious man.

 

He made a few small short thrusts and then something totally unexpected happened. Sherlock pushed back! He pushed back so hard John felt as if he was going to disappear inside the taller man and suddenly all his self-controls left him. He pulled out till only the head of his cock dipped inside and then buried himself to the hilt again, with a few hard thrusts. Sherlock’s moaning, wailing responses were enough indication of how much he was enjoying this and John was in no position to hold back anymore. He fucked Sherlock with all his might, holding the slender hips and slamming in over and over again till he was dizzy with arousal and Sherlock was making quite the racket.

 

“Oh fuck,” John rasped out when the release threatened and he knew he was hurtling towards the edge and would fall over any moment, “You there yet?”

 

“Ah-Ah…..just a touch….”

 

At first John was confused by that statement. If Sherlock needed to touch himself then what was stopping him? Then he looked down at the beautiful creature he was making love to and realized Sherlock had two reasons for not doing so. One, he was unable to balance himself and touch his cock at the same time. Two, he had surrendered completely to John and needed him to reach completion.

 

That dependency on him made him feel powerful beyond words. If Sherlock needed him so much, he always needed him so much, then he was certainly the central point of the genius’ universe. God, so many people fascinated by Holmes, Sherlock Holmes fascinated by him!!!

 

He bent over and reached Sherlock’s manhood, giving it a few tugs and pulls as he continued his relentless assault on the younger man’s arse. He was not sure if he was hitting the right spot or not, this kind of sex was new for him too, but he was surely doing something right.

 

Sherlock was going into ecstasy.

 

“Jawn,” he cried out, “JAWN!!!”

 

“Let go,” John encouraged him, “Cum!”

 

It was as if Sherlock was waiting for that order because he came right after, screaming and shaking and shuddering, spurts of semen flying out and coating John’s hand, the couch and some bits even landing on the floor. It was a big load and Sherlock sank into the couch and seemed drained by the end of it.

 

John kept up the thrusts, a tremendous urge to taste Sherlock gripping him when he looked at the sticky mess on his fingers.

 

Tentatively he sucked on one finger, then the other, then he let himself lick it all off like cream off a cake. Sherlock was never a good eater but still his semen tasted neutral, a bit on the sweetish side even, it was certainly not the bitter milk of most men. The very knowledge that it was Sherlock he was tasting made John’s cum rush forth at double speed and immediately he found himself cumming hard, harder than ever before, and every drop of his blood rushed south to aide the process. He flowed into Sherlock as he grunted with each spurt, fingers digging into Sherlock’s hip bones. He was sure he would leave marks there but right then he couldn’t stop himself from doing anything his body pushed him to do.

 

The ecstasy abated but his body buzzed with the aftershocks in a nicely pleasant manner. Still, he prolonged the pleasure of being joined to his lover by staying inside as much as possible, making small movements with his hips till he softened completely and the now-floppy dick slid out of the well-used hole. John let out a muted moan and stood up, stretching his limbs and smiling with bliss.

 

That was when he heard it. A snore.

 

Sherlock had fallen asleep, still draped over the couch’s arm-rest, arse sticking out in the air and a thin stream of John’s semen dripping down the back of his thighs.

 

John quickly fetched a towel and some tissues and cleaned Sherlock and himself, before he gently nudged the detective to wake up. “Hey,” he said softly, “Sherl, hey? Baby, wake up.”

 

“Hnnnn….don’t wanna.”

 

“Sherlock?”

 

“Go away Jawn.”

 

 _Some things don’t change, like Sherlock being Sherlock, whiny and needy and childlike_ , John mused. He decided to take the only option left. He couldn’t let Sherlock sleep here like this, the man would soon roll over and fall or wake up with a nasty backache. He had to take him to bed.

 

No, correction, _he had to carry Sherlock to bed_. “C’mon genius,” he said as he lifted the detective’s sleeping form bride style, “I got you!”


	9. It starts with a lap dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a special thing about Sherlock's 'lap'
> 
> Sebastian never had a problem. This time even John doesn't mind

“Hey,” John was pretty surprised when he saw Jim cooking breakfast. At the same time he was worried they’d have to _skip_ breakfast if _Jim was cooking_. But then he saw the pancakes, the sausages and the nicely done crispy toasted bread and realized Jim was not a disaster in the kitchen after all. “Something smells nice,” he complimented.

 

Jim merely grunted and went on doing what he was doing.

 

“I get it now, you have certain signature dishes that you’re really good at whipping up,” John continued, hoping that by shacking up together he would end the longstanding animosity with Jim Moriarty and _perhaps become….friends_? He handed Jim the seasonings the man was pointing at and offered to pour them both some tea. Jim nodded in approval and flipped the pancakes, then took them off the pan and set down the batch on a warmed plate. “This looks good, smells awesome and I am getting hungrier by the second, you know,” he tried again, when he saw no effort on Jim’s part to answer anything he had said so far. Was the man angry with him?

 

“I was always good with breakfasts,” Jim spoke finally, “Sausages, bacon, omelets, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, pancakes and sandwiches, whipped yoghurt with fruits, toast, tea, coffee, juices, milkshakes, I can do them all. Sebby always likes the breakfasts I cook on Sundays.”

 

“Brunch?”

 

“That too, sometimes.”

 

“Why were you so upset yesterday?” John asked and stopped when he saw Jim glare at him. “I mean, if I may ask,” he added, hoping he was not stabbed or murdered. To his surprise, Jim’s look softened and he opened up.

 

“As a kid I was so good at academics and art that people hated me with a vengeance. By my mere presence I’d make them feel inadequate and many couldn’t stand that. It was okay as long as you faced this at school but when your own parents are biggest and worst critics, when your elder brother and uncle bully you, things begin to get tiring and annoying. Only my baby sister supported me, she still does. I-I just don’t like to fail, it makes me feel inadequate……like last afternoon. And when people show sympathy and lie, it makes me feel worse.”

 

“Ah, I get now,” John was surprised at how much they had in common. His parents never saw one good thing in him and he also got support _only from his sister_. “I spent my life in boarding schools and hostels,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug, “Just to avoid having to be home and constantly being nagged about not being good enough. It is annoying.”

 

“It’s horrid. But sisters are nice.”

 

“Not Sherlock’s sister.”

 

“Eurus? She is. She wants to marry me, correction, she wanted to. I had to refuse her, gently.”

 

“For a long time Sherlock suspected that,” John continued, helping Jim plate the food he was whipping up, “He told me many times that Eurus had intended to use you, just as you used her, to get at Sherlock and even Mycroft. But eventually she fell for you, very hard. The fact that she knew where you were while Mycroft and Sherlock did not, that gave her a weird sense of power over them. Maybe because that’s the only time she felt she had power over her two brilliant brothers. But having said that, did you have feelings for her too or was she just a stepping stone to get under Sherlock’s skin? Again, excuse my forwardness and inquisitiveness, you can choose not to answer.”

 

“I shall only say this,” Jim turned to him and said, his bright brown eyes sparkling with the truth, “The only person I have ever really loved is my Tiger.”

 

***

 

“How was it?”

 

“Painful at first, for about two and half seconds, when three inches were in…..”

 

“No, doofus, I don’t want a scientific download of your experience, tell me the real thing,” Sebastian said with a giggle as he and Sherlock sat on the bed and chatted. Sebastian had been up for a while (and he had had a quickie with his Jim already) but Sherlock had just woken and seemed both delighted and a bit cautious at the same time. He had sat up, winced and then adjusted his bottom again on the mattress, looking for a comfortable angle. He could still feel the place where John had been inside him and it was making him half-hard already. Who knew pains, aches and discomfiture could be such a turn-on?

 

“It felt great,” Sherlock replied, “But I am…..butt-hurt, to be honest. Didn’t feel so bad last night but now….owww!”

 

“The pain does come on later,” Sebastian explained, “It will go by the end of the day, for sure.”

 

He could empathize with Sherlock. Jim was a bit above average, about seven and half inches or so, and still Sebastian limped for a full day whenever the mastermind topped and took him rough. John was easily nine and half inches, half an inch less than him at the most, and taking that girth up the tail was no mean feat. “Soak in a hot bath for an hour,” he advised, “It helps and you feel much better afterwards.”

 

“Seb…..”

 

“Yes Sherlock?”

 

“Are you really thinking what I have been deducing for a while now?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Something tells me you two want more from this stay than just get me and John together as a couple,” Sherlock was candid and, in his usual tactless style, told whatever was on his mind without applying any filters anywhere, “I mean to say that, why would any of you really care about my sex-life or John’s or our relationship? The last time four of us met face to face, we had locked horns and none of us had walked away _clearly victorious_. There were unsolved mysteries, unrequited love, misunderstood feelings, loose ends, unspoken words, the whole nine yards! We didn’t part as friends, did we? When you found us and offered us shelter, there was something on your mind and also Jim’s. Is it about some sexual explorations, some experiments, a prelude to partner swapping and all that?”

 

Sebastian sighed. Maybe it was time to let the cat out of the bed. “Yes, there is in fact something.”

 

“What would that be?”

 

“A foursome. All of us together. Then perhaps you and me. Then Jim and John.”

 

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He just gave him a blank stare. Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and held Sherlock’s gaze, waiting for him to react rather than start explaining things from his side. If Sherlock couldn’t take the truth then he shouldn’t have asked for it. Finally a crooked grin broke through the detective’s face and Sebastian was forced to ask, “What is the matter?”

 

“Nothing,” the green-eyed man replied quickly, then abruptly changed his mind, “There is actually something. I am fine to….um…..do it with you, but I am not sure John would be open to fucking Jim. He is scared of him, you know. I’d be surprised if they can _do anything_ together, they are just chalk and cheese and have very different ways of looking at the world and at sex and relationships.”

 

“Moooorning!!!”

 

Jim walked in, looking triumphant, “Breakfast is ready! Rise and shiiiiine!”

 

Sherlock had just pulled on his pants when the door opened wider, Jim holding on to the doorknob to prevent it from closing, and John Watson walked in pushing a trolley filled with various covered dishes, some cutlery and napkins and two pots of tea.

 

“We made this together,” John said happily, “Oh Sherlock, you’re up! Good, brush and come join us. We shall have breakfast in bed.”

 

Sherlock stared at them in complete astonishment. He pinched his arm but the picture wouldn’t change. Jim and John had prepared breakfast together!!! He tried to go to the bathroom but ended up first bumping against the nightstand, then tripping over the edge of the rug and finally walking into a wall. Sebastian chuckled, got out of bed and firmly gripped Sherlock’s wrist, guiding him towards the bathroom. En route, Sherlock murmured, “John seems okay with Jim, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, so he is,” Sebastian guffawed, “He’s an army man and we have an immense capacity to adapt and adjust. Now shut the fly trap, your jaw is hanging beneath your rib cage.”

 

***

 

“So that’s why they let us take shelter here?” John asked, eyes round as saucers as they spoke in hushed whispers that afternoon. Sebastian and Jim were napping together on the couch and Sherlock and John had decided it was the best time to talk. So they had decided to take a bath together, the sounds of the shower and the running water would muffle out their voices, or so they hoped. Sherlock had decided to start by telling John what Sebastian and Jim intended to do with them.

 

“Sherlock, I am not so sexually liberated and we two have barely started off…..this is too much to ask for,” John said, not looking the least bit happy.

 

“They were here by design Jawn,” Sherlock explained as they stepped into the hot spray, “The diamonds, those were already with them at least a day ago. The weather warning had been given four days earlier so they knew when to start in order to make a clean getaway. But they didn’t and chose to stay in the only commercial place close to the village we were in. When two men plan things so meticulously, then they do have a huge reason behind it. What do you think their reason is?”

“They are horny perverts?” John huffed, soaping up Sherlock properly.

 

“No.”

 

“They’re desperate and bored with each other?”

 

“Not by a mile.”

 

“They want us, only us.”

 

“Perfect. And Jim Moriarty can’t take rejection or see his best laid plans crumble to dust. If you refuse or even if _I refuse on your behalf_ , there will be hell to pay for.”

 

“Sherlock, baby cakes, you turning me on is no problem at all. But in a foursome…..I dunno.”

 

“John we need to keep them happy. It’s only been three days and there’s an equal amount of time to go before we can be on our way again. If we screw this up we won’t make it out of here alive. Remember, we are not in London and there’s no Mycroft or Mi5 or the Yard to save us.”

 

“I shall see, I shall try, but don’t blame me if nothing happens,” John pointed at his floppy shrunk cock and made a sound of distaste, “I am not such a sexually cavalier person with an open, liberated lifestyle. I doubt if I can even get turned on.”

 

***

 

“Ohhhhhhh, I need to cum,” John nearly doubled up as he watched through wide eyes at Jim who was giving Sherlock a lap-dance. His doubts were squarely put to rest right then and he admitted he was _quite turned on_. His hand was on his cock, which was straining right upwards towards his belly button, shamelessly peeping out of his trousers which he had pushed down. Next to him Sebastian sat stoically, not moving, not touching, not making any sounds at all. Initially John had tried to be like him, seemingly unaffected and trying to take the ‘hot’ lap dance with a pinch of salt. But five minutes into the whole thing he had become so horny that all his shyness and prudishness had flown out of the window. His cock had become so impossibly hard _he had to touch it._

 

“Oooh-Oooh-Oooh,” Jim gyrated, singing in that velvety voice with the lilting Irish accent adding to its irresistible charm.

 

Sherlock had been half stripped as well and he was sitting on the chair with his wrists bound behind it, a huge tent in his boxers and his pelvis making repeated jerking movements as Jim went totally naked in front of him. From wearing his olive green Westwood and pristine white shirt, he was now only wearing the dark green tie wit yellow subtle stripes on it and a white jockstrap which exposed his pert tushy completely. Sherlock made a groaning sound and thrust up into nothing but air as Jim rubbed himself obscenely against Sherlock, climbing on his lap and continuing the dance. “Please…..” the detective said.

 

“Please what Sherrrrly?” Jim asked, eyes glittering with lust.

 

“Please let me fuck you. Then you can fuck me.”

 

“Suuuurrre?”

 

Sherlock moaned, “I have never been…..ohhhh…..surer!!” Jim giggled and yanked down Sherlock’s boxers and untied his hands. Immediately Sherlock grabbed the lube and squirted an ample amount on his cock and on Jim’s hole, not bothering to prepare him. “Think you can take it?” He asked, almost like a challenge and howled with pleasure as the criminal launched himself on his lap. He sat down on the straining erection and his super-tight anal canal smoothly glided down on the well-lubed shaft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mindless PWP smut continues in next chapter. All are out of character except for Jim ;-)


	10. The Foursome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John sheds off his inhibitions, clothes and repressed side

“I-I need to….be with them….I need to touch Sherlock and…..”

 

John couldn’t finish the sentence, his cheeks were flushed with the heat of arousal and his ears were burning with the shame he felt because of his own loss of control. But Sebastian understood and answered him.

 

“Touch Sherlock and also Jim?” He asked and when John nodded in a contrite manner he added, “I can understand that. Even I want both of them. Don’t go with the way I am sitting, I have a cock-ring around me that’s keeping me in check, otherwise I would have spilled it in my pants. Now captain, I am going to give you some orders and you better obey. Toss it off the first time. This will get hotter and harder to resist and if you want to open your account by fucking one of us, you’ll embarrass yourself by cumming on our butt. You won’t even make it inside. So take some of the pressure off, yeah, that’s how you do it, jerk off. Even I am going to do that, whilst watching them!”

 

“Ahhhhhhiiiii,” Jim screeched as he was bounced on Sherlock’s cock. Overwhelmed with arousal Sherlock was making deep-throated moaning sounds, head moving from side to side except when Jim grabbed it and kissed him deep. His hands grabbed Jim’s butt and hips so hard red imprints were already beginning to form on the smooth, pale skin.

 

The chair creaked and rocked, making odd sounds and leaning dangerously to one side, but none of the four men cared to notice. They were too consumed with the need to make love and experience an orgasm that would blow their minds completely.

 

Suddenly Sherlock started to suck on Jim’s nipples and the Irishman rolled his hips, swearing colorfully as his back bowed and toes curled. He was very close to cumming and Sherlock pulled him flush against his own body, giving his lover’s cock a bit of much-needed friction between their skins. Jim moved faster and faster and Sherlock continued to thrust up and suck on the twin nubs till Jim gave him a warning.

 

“Sh-Sherly….I’ll cum.”

 

“I’m close too….oh fuck cumming!”

 

Jim moved once, twice, thrice and let out a loud shriek. Sherlock followed soon with a louder bellow. Their seeds sprang forth and they kept moving even more desperately as a massive orgasm rolled over them.

 

John heard a big grunt and realized it had come from him. He looked down as the seed left his body, spilling over his hand and the floor, pearly little blobs of creamy release glistening in the dim illumination of the room.

 

Next to him Sebastian was jerking off desperately, stroking his huge cock while trying to caress his balls at the same time. He was close, the blood had rushed south already, his eyes had fallen shut in supreme pleasure, and all he needed was that last push to fall over. John’s eyes roamed over the super-physique of the tall, handsome, blond man and without warning he felt horny all over again. Sebastian was everyone’s type, a man’s man and a woman’s dreamboat. Who was a John Watson to resist the person whom half the members of their cantonment lusted after!

 

He started off conservative and reached out to touch the sniper’s balls. Sebastian’s eyes snapped open and a wail left him. A growl rumbled out of his chest the next moment as he felt John’s hands squeezing and fondly his balls and pressing gently on to his sensitive perineum.

 

Sebastian let out a deep guttural groan and his semen splattered all over the floor, shooting out like a jet spray. He thrust up into his fist and kept groaning and rasping, the muscles on his thighs and calves shuddering hard as he came and came and came. The intensity of his orgasm was not lost on John who realized the truth behind the colonel’s words. If they tried to hold on until Sherlock and Jim were available for them, they’d spill it so fast it would be useless and embarrassing. When the aftershocks shooting through his body settled a bit and he was able to breathe again, John felt confounded by his rather ‘bold’ act. Did he touch Sebastian? Did he just touch the man who he revered and feared back in the army, that too in an _intimate manner_?

 

“I-I was just…..you know…..” he stammered, struggling to form words. Somewhere in the room something crashed but he was in no condition to focus on anyone or anything but himself and the handsome blonde man right next to him.

 

“Was good,” Sebastian replied in his ‘sex-voice’, which made John’s cock jump again. He looked at the other man whose eyes were still closed, his head hung backwards, and his lips barely moved as he whispered those two words.

 

“I have never……” again he couldn’t finish.

 

“There’s always a start.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Footsteps alerted them to the presence of their mates and, looking up, they saw Sherlock and Jim standing close by. John became self-conscious and tried to grab his clothes but Sherlock stepped forward and firmly held his hand, shaking his head subtly when their eyes met. “No Jawn,” he said, “No need to wrap up just now. We’ve only begun and I think we have a long night ahead of us. Please oblige me, please!”

 

Not that John needed much persuading. He mutely nodded and reached out to touch Sherlock’s cheek when he noticed something unusual behind the detective. “What is that?” He pointed, “Is that the chair you two were sitting on?”

 

“Sitting and fucking on,” Jim cooed, adding the extra words with a naughty relish, “Yeah, it was evidently not that sturdy so it broke, but thankfully once we were both done, yeah! But never mind, I’ll pay for it at checkout.”

 

John couldn’t help but smile. So that was the crashing sound! “Yeah, we’re okay,” Sherlock anticipated John’s question, “Jim is. He rode my body like a raft as we went down.”

 

***

 

Sherlock had never had someone do this to him yet and therefore had absolutely no idea how powerfully sensitive the prostate could be. So, as Sebastian licked and ate out his opening while playing with the switch of the slender little vibrator that had been inserted deep within him, he thrashed about and cried out loud enough to bring on an avalanche. His long fingers fisted at the sheets and he kept moving his arse a bit, to get Sebastian’s wicked tongue deeper in his ass while the gentle vibrations continued to do their magic on his sensitive little gland. He was so hard he could implode. “More?” Sebastian asked, looking up from his task.

 

His response was a mixture of a cry, whine and growl and Sebastian smiled and said ‘I’ll take that as a yes’ and continued.

 

In the meantime John was lying flat on his back with Jim sitting on him and doing all kinds of tricks that had the doctor flying right into the stratosphere with pleasure. When Jim had approached him he couldn’t deny he was still apprehensive, he was even a bit afraid of how Jim might react if he found out that they didn’t really share the kind of chemistry one needed to become lovers. But Jim had started sucking his nipples and jerking him off with an expert hand and John had once again been proved wrong. He realized he had no problems having sex with Jim, provided he didn’t expect to top and didn’t give him the ‘dark’ Moriarty look.

 

But now, as Jim rode him like a cowboy displaying his skills on a mechanical bull, he knew he had been misled by the canny criminal.

 

“I am not topping, am I?” He asked, hands roaming over Jim’s slim nude body.

 

“Mmmmhahaha,” was Jim’s response as he guided John’s hand down to his cock.

 

“Power bottom, huh?”

 

“Want me to cum all over you?”

 

“Yeah, Oh God, I can’t believe I am saying this but yeah, that’s what I want!”

 

“Your wish is my command Johnny boi!!!”

 

Jim began to ride him harder while John kept stroking his cock in a tight fist. It didn’t take long.

 

As soon as he felt the warm splatter of Jim’s cum over his stomach, chest and upper arm, John surrendered to the immense pull of his libido which was screaming at him to let go. He closed his eyes and thrust up into the contracting channel, right hand still moving up and down Jim’s dick, and allowed himself to shoot a heavy load inside the Irishman. A part of him found it unbelievable, him and Jim together, while another part felt triumphant about the way he had screwed the infamous Moriarty, and actually made him enjoy it.

 

“Don’t be smug, bitch,” Jim hit him clean across the face.

 

It was such an unexpected reaction that a gasping cry of shock left the doctor’s throat. His left hand rose up to block any further blows while his right hand flew to his cheek. But instead of anger, he felt more arousal, more secret desires creep up on him. The orgasm had loosened his tongue as well and he found himself blurting out some words randomly. “Oh I’d love for Sherlock to avenge this slap by spanking your butt till the skin turns flaming pink like candy floss.” As soon as he had said them, _his fear returned_. What if Jim became ‘Moriarty’ for a moment and slit his throat with a pocket knife, or worse, just ordered Sebastian to blow his brains out? With Jim, _anything_ was possible.

 

Jim gave him a scrutinizing glance for several seconds before he slowly lifted himself off John’s still hard cock. “Why don’t you tell your lover boy just what a dirty old daddy you happen to be! I am sure it will make him double his efforts.”

 

***

 

“How did you make him agree?” Sebastian laughed, smoking a cigarette as he watched.

 

Next to him John sat, a lot easier and relaxed than he had been before this had started. Sebastian had been right. These kinds of activities required some ‘getting used to’ but once someone had embraced their wild, bold, sassy and experimental side, this was fun, real fun!

 

“I didn’t ask Sherl, I actually enticed Jim and _made him_ pull Sherlock into that orbit,” John laughed along, taking a swig of whiskey from a pocket flask and handing it back to Seb, “When Sherlock checked with me about this, I told him it is like a porno game of ‘control the criminal’ involving a ‘punish him till atonement’ kind of activity. Guess why he didn’t refuse? He agreed readily because he hadn’t heard of these things before and is too proud to admit he doesn’t know everything in this world.”

 

“That’s where they are different. Jim would have slapped me and said ‘This was supposed to be my idea’.

 

“He did slap me Seb.”

 

“Oh…..he did, did he?”

 

“For once, it felt like a game and not an insult. I am beginning to see a lot more of Jim than I saw before in London.”

“Well, that’s good!”

 

Sherlock relentlessly slapped and smacked at Jim’s pert, curvy tushy, making him lie across his knees so it looked like a proper punishment being administered to a sexy twink. A part of him was loving this to bits, smacking Jim’s arse and watching it turn a hot pink, feeling the smaller man’s arousal build against his thighs, hear those needy moans emerge from his slightly open mouth. He had not got a chance often to be the one in control of a situation or person, to act as the commanding older one, or to take on the role of the one in charge or the one to dominate. Aside from work and cases, where he called the shots, it was usually John or Mycroft who made him do ‘what was best for him’. This felt different, unique, fulfilling, kinky and very, very sexy! “I own you, I will take you whenever I want. Do you understand me?” Sherlock growled.

 

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Jim yelped. It was a game of apologies and making up through hot sex.

 

“Now what are you supposed to say?”

 

“Fuck me sir. I deserve it.”

 

“DESERVE?”

 

“I desire it, this is my punishment but I desire it, I want it, please sir fuck me.”

 

“On all fours then.”

 

Jim went on all fours and Sherlock positioned himself between his spread legs, holding the base of his cock as he pushed it inside slowly and carefully. Jim shrieked with pleasure and buried his face in a pillow, making mewling sounds of ecstasy. John’s hand had traveled southwards to pleasure himself while Sebastian had just taken out a sex toy for his use, when the detective turned towards them, still on his knees with his dick buried in the mastermind. “If you wanna join in, now is the best time.”

 

In a flash John got on his knees behind Sherlock, putting three pillows underneath his kneecap to get the height right. Sebastian got on his knees just before Jim’s face, his huge erection dangling like a juicy carrot inches from those full Irish lips. “Sherly mooooove!!!” Jim hissed.

 

Jim’s breathy order made John move first. He slid inside Sherlock and thrust forth, making the detective slide deeper and deeper inside Jim. At the same time Jim’s body was pitched forward and his nose collided with Sebastian’s groin, making the man grab his phallus and slap it against Jim’s closed lips. In a flash the brunette opened his mouth and swallowed over half of the impressive erection!


	11. The red glowing eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snow storm shows no signs of calming down

John woke up and found himself back on the battlefield, buried under a pile of bodies. No, correction, he was in the medical tent that had converted into a battlefield, with guerilla warriors storming their camp from all sides and even attacking support staff, doctors, nurses and injured. It was a blitzkrieg, during which John had to do what he never thought he would, he would eventually kill half a dozen people.

 

He was a doctor. He was supposed to hold the scalpel and stethoscope, ointment and bandages, ampules and syringes, not a gun. But he had picked up one, a machine gun no less, which fired a hundred rounds within seconds.

 

Aside from a shot to the leg and a split-open wound on the side of his chin, he was all right. But the people around him were not. When he turned his head he saw the open eyes of Vector, one of the soldiers he was treating only a few hours ago. A man of thirty, the first of three sons, who openly declared he was the biggest coward of the family but had enlisted in the army because he was not good at anything else. He had been relieved to be injured, so he could avoid further field duty. As John sat up, gagging and coughing, he saw nurse June in the distance, lying as still as a stone. She appeared to be asleep but John’s doctor’s eyes told him she had been gone for a while.

 

Then another figure entered the tent.

 

John sat up, throwing off an arm from his chest. Almost immediately the scenario around him changed and he found himself in the bedroom of the cabin in remote Nepal. Then he remembered it all, getting hammered by the stimulation of the moment. He was naked, he was safe, he was with people he knew and the arm he had dislodged was none other than that of the man he so loved. Sherlock Holmes.

 

“Oh fuck,” he murmured to himself.

 

They had a foursome.

 

“Oh fuck,” he repeated.

 

He had ended up fucking Jim Moriarty and enjoyed it.

 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned and rubbed his eyes.

 

They had been at it for hours and by the end of it everything had become a blur. He was not sure whose mouth had been on whom, no less whose cock was being used, or the hands for that matter. At one point they had been involved together, Sebastian fucking Jim’s mouth, Jim being fucked by Sherlock and John ploughing into Sherlock and completing the chain. It had been immensely pleasurable and incredibly intoxicating.

 

Which explained why he felt sore and achy all over, why he had slept so bloody long (God, the bedside clock said it was 4 pm already) and why he felt aroused simply by looking at the men asleep around him.

 

Jim was lying like a starfish, arms and legs spread out, mouth slightly open, eyes firmly shut. Small twilight whispers of breath left his nose and mouth and he snorted ever so slightly as he slept soundly. Sebastian was spread out between Jim and Sherlock like a great bearskin rug, comforting and formidable, his legs on Jim’s thighs and his arms holding on to both consultants. Sherlock slept curled up on his side, lying diagonally across the bed, his head resting on Jim’s stomach.

 

Shaken by the magnitude of their deed the last night, which had lasted well into the hours of the early morning, John got out of bed on tottering legs and made his way towards the bathroom. His arse was sore (now who fucked me, am I not supposed to be impenetrable?), he could feel the muscles in parts of his body where he didn’t even think muscles could exist (seriously, why do even my hairs and scalp feel like someone ‘used’ them liberally) and he felt a bit of a burn to the side of his dick. When he looked down he caught sight of the sore spot on the now floppy thing, where he could gauge a toothmark. Oh dear God, someone’s teeth scraped him there, was it? His throat felt raw and sore too but he wasn’t sure if the screaming with pleasure did it or the shrieks of pain….. _surely I would have felt pain when my penis got scraped, right?_

 

He had to bite into his fist as he took a bath. His body was flaming. Nicks, cuts, bruises, bites, hickeys, scrapes and what not? Oh dear, it did feel like having gone through a battlefield the previous night but in that case he was no collateral damage. He was a willing participant and the scars and hickeys were the spoils of his triumph! Yes, he had finally liberated himself sexually and done what was long buried in the recesses of his heart as a ‘ _secreter than secret desire’_. He had also fucked for the sake of fucking, not because of love alone.

 

Almost half an hour later he was sipping tea in the kitchen when Sebastian joined him. He looked sleepy, smelled strange (John knew he carried the same smell till he took that quick bath) and sounded hoarse. “Evening,” the colonel said, sat down on the chair a bit too hard and yelped, quickly shifting and adjusting his position till he found a comfortable one, “Such nights are a bitch, no?”

 

“It is, the next day, in our case the next early evening.”

 

“Fuck, it’s nearly five.”

 

“Not that it matters. We’ve been here for five days and nights now, the storm doesn’t seem to be waning any bit.”

“It’s become worse, John.”

 

“Are we even stocked up for more days?”

 

Originally provisioned for a week, they had not gone easy on the supplies at all. They had been cooking three meals a day, plus rustling up snacks at will and drinking tea, coffee, water and whiskey in full abundance. Having nothing to do made for a bunch of bored people and such people wanted to eat and eat some more, to fend off the listlessness. Even Sherlock had begun to nibble more often.

 

“Nope,” Sebastian said as he gestured at the kitchen, “Two or three more days, at the most. We need to go easy on the rations.” He looked in the direction of the bathroom and shook his head, “I know you won’t like to hear this but…..The bath….I know we all need a bath today but….we have to go easy…..on that too. The water heater is run by electricity, not solar power. The water pipes are not built very deep in the ground. What I mean to say is….in these parts of the world the wires, the connections, the underground pipes are not constructed with safety measures and bad weather in mind. They rather concentrate on the cheapest items to save costs.”

 

“No signal,” John pointed at his cell phone with a look of concern, “For almost twenty-four hours there have been none. Internet gone, phone connection kaput, rations about to run out and the ‘not so underground’ pipes about to burst soon because of the dropping temperatures, God knows how long we might get electricity, I must say Colonel that we are all fucked. And I don’t mean the kind that leaves you in a happy head space for days after that.”

 

Sebastian chuckled. “I always thought you’d be a prude, a totally repressed born again hetero who worships the vagina.”

 

“Strange,” John ribbed him too, “I thought that sentence described you.”

 

“I broke out of it much earlier than you did.”

 

“Because your man is a highly-sexed, seductive-is-my-middle-name dandy who functions like a porn-star in bed.”

 

“No, you broke out much later because you were chasing your own tail while thinking you were chasing after that repressed posh lanky. My dandy is the cleverest man on earth, by the way.”

 

“No, that would be my man,” John objected, “Sherlock is the Einstein of his times.”

 

“Then Jim would be a combination of Newton, Paganini and Jack the Ripper of his times,” Sebastian guffawed.

 

“Guys, tea?”

 

They looked up and saw the two men they had just been defending in their friendly argument. Still nude, streaked with dried cum and lint, peppered all over by minor injuries of all kinds and carrying the evidence of their intense orgy in the form of wide-legged chicken walks, Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty had never looked as funny as this before.

 

“Yeah, so tea, yes tea,” John pointed to the kettle, “Brewed some, please have a seat and drink some ladies. I….um….I shall get you something to….wear.”

 

Doing their synchronized chicken walk, the two geniuses went across the kitchen to pour themselves some tea while John and Sebastian exchanged glances and suppressed chuckles. Laughing would mean silent treatment from Sherlock and perhaps a knife on their sides from Jimmy! John then went to get some clothes for the pair and soon the two brilliant men were wearing sweat pants, jumpers and socks and digging into a breakfast/lunch/evening snack of boiled eggs with some cereal and milk. “No bacon kitten, sorry,” Sebastian said with a contrite look on his face, “We need to go easy on the bread and other supplies too. We are all snowed-in and the fucking blizzard outside doesn’t seem to be slowing down any.”

 

“You’re not saying we are going to starve here, are you?” Jim asked.

 

“Not putting it that way but then…..” Sebastian didn’t finish his sentence and padded to the bathroom to take a quick bath. The shower was out of the question. A bucket bath with a mug, the traditional eastern way, was a better option. Less water spent.

 

“Why does he do that?” Jim snapped.

 

“Who does what?” Sherlock asked.

 

“He leaves the table or the room often, like this, without finishing what he was about to say.”

 

“Oh, when you gotta go you gotta go.”

 

“He went for a bath. It could have waited thirty more seconds. I hope he gets hot scalding water right over his dick.”

 

In a rather comical manner, with perfect comedy timing built in, they heard a deep groan from the bathroom, followed by softer ones as Sebastian clearly tried to keep the sounds of distress in. While John knew why this was happening, he had after all been in the same position only an hour ago, Jim and Sherlock exchanged high fives and giggled amongst themselves. A cunning devil working in John’s brain asked him to stay silent and he did.

 

Later, when Jim went in for his own bath, the joke was back on him. The small cottage was almost razed to the ground by the loud shriek of the criminal.

 

As a result, Sherlock wiped himself down with a wet towel and chose not to take a bath.

 

***

 

“Did I do this?” Jim gently caressed Sherlock’s right eye. It was a proper black eye. It had happened during an intense moment while Jim was inside Sherlock and they were wrestling for dominance in bed.

 

“How does it matter?” Sherlock said nonchalantly, “I gave you this.” He pointed at a prominent bite mark on Jim’s neck, the color of the skin an angry red over pastel white. He reached out and caressed the mark, only for Jim to jerk his head away.

 

“Don’t get romantic with me Holmes,” Jim said in a vexed tone and moved away from the detective, perching on the other end of the couch, “We have other matters to handle at this moment. We have been fucking snowed in for six days and nights now and the windows are boarding up, with fucking snow. We have no bathwater left, whatever is there can be used only for the toilet flush. We are melting snow to wash our faces and brush our teeth and we are boiling tap water to make it fit for drinking. Not the way I imagined when I made the plan to steal diamonds from the Rana’s collection.”

 

“Why do you steal Jimmy?” Sherlock asked.

 

“What? Because I am a thief,” Jim retorted.

 

“No, because you find it fun. Money can’t be a motivator, anymore.”

 

“It is not. It’s not been so for years now.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Let it be the reason you just quoted, fun.”

 

“Life is rather unpredictable James. If there is something I have learned over years, it’s this. People say we live only once but the truth is we live every day. We only die once. Let that once come when it’s time and not because you’re pulling the hangman’s noose over your neck and jumping on a trampoline, trying to trick fate. Now you have Sebastian, you’re not lonely anymore, you’re not even sick anymore, then why try these stupid, irrational antics?”

 

“Just for the records,” Jim said sourly, “I don’t pay any money for unsolicited advice or useless sermons.”

 

“Hardly useless,” Sherlock said, “It is only……” He paused when he saw Jim’s eyes were fixed on the window. Sherlock followed his gaze and turned back to look at it. His heart nearly stopped.

 

A pair of red glowing eyes stared back at them.


	12. The Myth of the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sebastian try to get some help from the locals and discover a mysterious myth prevalent in those parts of the world. Jim has a near meltdown. Sherlock has a chat with him.

“Must have been a tiger,” Sebastian said, his face blue and his nose frosted up from a brief sojourn outdoors.

 

“Tiger, here?” Jim sneered.

 

“Um….mountain tiger, perhaps” Sebastian muttered and stopped when he saw the ferocious look in Jim’s eyes. He moved away from his eccentric and short-tempered lover who was holding a sharp knife in his hands. John had managed to get out through a window, shoveled some snow and got Sebastian out while Sherlock had half his body stuck out of another window and was aiming his flashlights on every nook and corner of the property, the woods behind and ahead and even the tops of the trees. “No, I cannot see anything,” the detective said, “No man, woman, creature, unicorn, nothing. But I am sure I saw something there, just like Jim did, and it didn’t seem like anything we have seen before.”

 

“Then get back in,” John ordered as he closed the window, “It’s freezing outside.”

 

“Can’t,” Sherlock said, “Ehm…..”

 

“You’re stuck.”

 

“Seems to be.”

 

“Oh God Sherl.” John managed to drag Sherlock inside but the four men were suitably disturbed by the latest development. “Maybe we should ask the owners what this thing might be,” John offered, “I just shoveled off some snow and cleared a window, we can climb out again and make a dash for the main cottage. I think we can reach their lodgings in half a minute, it’s only thirty feet away from ours.”

 

“I think that might be a good idea,” Sebastian said, “Maybe they have more provisions. Also, they have their helpers, local boys, who could perhaps go to the nearest town and get us some help at least.”

 

“We have more whiskey and a medical aid box in the boot of our car,” Sebastian said, “And some cartons of safe drinking water as well. Might come in handy at times like this.”

 

“I am not going out in this cold,” Jim snarled, looking red-cheeked and very hassled, “I am James Isaac Moriarty, I don’t run errands. If you two military chicks want to go out in this snowstorm, by all means be my fucking guest.”

 

John resisted an eyeroll at the haughtiness and looked at Sherlock. “Oh I think I have a catch in my back,” Sherlock quickly went and sat right next to Jim, putting his feet up on the couch, “I’ll stay here and cheer for both of you.”

 

“Cheer for us?” John frowned, “Are we at some baseball game or what?”

 

“No,” Jim said cheekily, “It’s called a game of ‘The Snowman Cometh’.”

 

***

 

The thirty feet distance had taken ten minutes and by the time Sebastian and John were at the snowed up porch of the main cottage, they were just a little less frozen than popsicles. John didn’t dare look at Sebastian, who had turned fairly blue and looked like a tree in Northern Finland in winter, snow all over his branches and devoid of all leaves. He was sure he looked somewhat similar, in a shorter version. When they tried to knock, they found they couldn’t even raise their arms to do so. “Stand back,” Sebastian said through chattering teeth, “I need to do this.”

 

He picked up a rock, still visible amidst the carpet of snow, and threw it at the door. It worked and soon a light flashed on to their faces as the landlady stared at them through the ice-encrusted glass pane of her window.

 

For a moment it seemed they wouldn’t be let in before a window was opened and the two local lands jumped out and cleared the doorway, then held the door open while the two guests got inside. The elderly couple spoke very little initially and even though John and Sebastian tried to coax, cajole and persuade them to help, they didn’t respond except for brief nods and a few ‘hmmms’. Their servants spoke very little English and stood quietly by the fireside, looking absolutely fine with their circumstances. John observed them, they were not even wrapped up from top to toe like they were. Oh well, _that’s why they were locals_.

 

“Please, is there a way out, can you help us?” Sebastian asked, “I could help you with money. Lots of money. Here, I have about ten thousand dollars right now, dollars, not local money, American money, you see!”

 

To their shock, the old woman’s leathery face broke into a scoffing look and she waved her little nut of a fist at them. “Keep your American money,” she said, “If this was of any use in these parts, you wouldn’t have to give them away.”

 

Sebastian was baffled by her response. Even with a thick accent, she was easy to understand.

 

“No, what he meant is that if a rescue party costs money, we can fund it,” John tried to twist the words around so their hosts wouldn’t be offended.

 

“We are just asking for help.”

 

“Yes, if you don’t then who will?”

 

Her husband answered this time. “You white men come here for fun, for adventure and at the first sign of trouble you think about throwing money at us and ask us to sweep the trouble away. Well, that is not how it works, not everywhere and with everyone. Not with us. We are not risking our necks, no matter how much money you throw at us. The provisions we shared with you could have remained with us, giving us a longer and bigger cushion to live off in this hazardous weather. We welcomed you in, and what did you do?”

 

“Um….what did we do?” Sebastian shrugged and looked at John.

 

“You took the weatherman seriously,” the wife said, shaking her head in disappointment, “Who in this fine world trusts the weatherman mister? Seven days of snowstorm was what he said but he didn’t even mention what conditions we might get when it’s over. It could be a clear day, calm and peaceful and yet there are dangers, like you might get frostbite and snow-blindness if you get out immediately to shovel snow and scoot out of here. You could have spoken to us on the very first day and we would have explained then. We could have warned you that snowstorms here continue for two weeks sometimes. But did you? No, you came here flashing your money and guns, oh yes, guns! That dark haired fella with you, he threatened us at gunpoint when we refused to give off all our whisky to you.”

 

John gave Sebastian a pointed glare. _Jim, that incorrigible madman, he had to show these good people a gun. Nonsense_. Sebastian remained quiet and suitably contrite.

 

“Just ration the food and boil the water properly before you drink it, you’ll be fine” Old man said, “Ration the firewood too. Electricity is about to go in a day or two. And while I don’t like living like this or advising anyone to do so, there is one more thing you must do. Avoid a bath.”

 

“Don’t mention bath, even that gives me a feeling of frostbite,” John said, “That’s the easiest thing to avoid.”

 

“There were two women here, I mean in that cottage,” Sebastian asked out of curiosity, “They still around?”

“Not sure. No news from them. We will check once the storm dies down.”

 

“Oh…..okay.”

 

“Can your men at least help us with some provisions we left in our car?” John asked very politely, “I mean, his car?” He pointed at Sebastian and added, “Please!” He was not about to make the same mistake Jim and Seb had made, he wasn’t going to antagonize these people.

 

“Now that will cost you. I’ll speak to them.”

 

The old man turned to his men and spoke in the local language. He even showed the money Sebastian was still holding in his hands and for a second John thought those two were going to really help. The money had made their eyes sparkle. But then the old man said something and the two men simply jumped and backed out, shaking their heads and arms and saying ‘Naa, Nahi, naaa” over and over again.

 

“Sorry,” the old man said, “But they are very superstitious and feel there is a snow demon in the woods. You see, the day the storm started, they were chopping some wood for our supplies when they heard some very strange noises coming from the distance. It was a series of sounds, harsh, barking laughter, very loud and derisive bloodcurdling laughter they heard.”

 

Oh fuckity-fuck, this is not good! John gripped his own knees and hung his head in distress. _Oh shit, that was he and Sherlock laughing loudly to fob off the chill and their fears_. “What?” Sebastian asked, unaware of the truth and amazed by the revelation, “You mean the day we arrived, us, then John and Sherlock? I was in the woods too…..I didn’t hear that and I…..oh well, I had my earphones on when I went down to fetch John and Sherlock. If the demon was laughing right behind me I wouldn’t have heard him over the sounds of this sexy Latina singer I was listening to. Anyways, if those two scaredy-cats won’t go then….. John, it seems to be you and me who have to do this job.”

 

“Y-Yeah…..one more thing, is there some kind of creature…..a creature that moves about…..in the woods, around this property?” John asked.

 

“Migou,” one of the men said.

 

“What is a migou?” John queried.

 

“MIGOU,” the other man said, louder.

 

“I am asking the meaning,” John said in a cross tone, “Saying it loudly won’t help me understand it better.”

 

“Yeti,” Sebastian replied solemnly, “A myth.”

 

“The abominable snowman? Really?”

 

“Yeah. These people do believe in it.”

 

The two men started off in the local language, saying a variety of things and waving their arms about, none of which John or Sebastian were able to fathom. When the spiel ended, they looked at the landlord and his wife for a translation. The old woman said, gently this time, “The migou is the last thing you need to fear. They say fallen angels on the slopes turn into the migou and live out their lives on these mountains and valleys and woods, looking after the place and the people. If he’s around, he’d help. He won’t hurt you.”

 

***

 

“Rock paper scissors. Rock paper scissors. Rock paper scissors.”

 

Sherlock threw his hands up in the air and huffed, “Silly game. Don’t wanna play.”

 

Jim bounced on the couch, eyes gleaming with naughtiness. “Oh yeah-yeah-yeah Sherly the great is angry, he is annnnngrrrry, he’s as angry as a clucking chickiiinnn!” He sang and flapped his arms impersonating a chicken, then flopped down on the couch with his head on Sherlock’s lap and kept chuckling, “You’re still the same aren’t you good ole’ Sherly boi! You’d rather stop playing rather than lose and learn, you’d rather say you ‘this doesn’t interest me’ than admit you don’t really get it. Seriously, do you think one person can be right all the time or know everything every time? How difficult is it for you to show your other side, the one that probably John and I see.”

 

“ _John and you_?” Sherlock’s eyes were wide, “Since when did you two become a unit?”

 

“Since he put it in me,” Jim raunchily made a circle shape with his thumb and forefinger and repeatedly kept moving the index finger of his other hand through it, “He even invited us for Christmas, at Baker Street no less!”

 

“He did???”

 

“Uh-huh!!!”

 

“So, are you……”

 

“I need to get out of here.” Jim’s mood suddenly changed and he jumped off the couch, pacing about rather distractedly, hitting the edge of the table with his knee and then almost tripping over the edge of the rug, “I can’t be stuck here like this forever. I want to go back, home!”

 

“This is hardly forever,” Sherlock said, “And home? You and Seb have a home?”

 

“Yes, that surprises you I suppose?”

 

“What surprises me is why you never seem to take it seriously?”

 

“Take what seriously?”

 

“Your life with him,” Sherlock explained patiently, “The fact that we are both in our late-thirties and our boyfriends have crossed forty. We are not so young anymore. Time to enjoy the simple joys of life. I never thought much of them either but now I know…. 221B is my home and it’s home because Mrs. Hudson and John are there with me.” He grabbed Jim when the criminal passed by him and pulled him back down on the couch, “Your mood swings are back! Where are the meds? Take your meds Jim. Please.”


	13. A SebLock moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I know what he sees in you'
> 
> 'I understand why he has a little crush on you, or you on him.'

 

 

 

“Sebby,” Jim murmured, “I am hungry.”

 

Sebastian sighed and handed him another biscuit, “I am sorry.”

 

Jim nodded and ate the biscuit slowly, savoring the taste, then drank a full bottle of water to suppress the constant hunger he felt. Ten days into their snowed-in status, they were now almost at the end of their rations as well as their wits. The situation had become almost like a refugee camp in the midst of a war. Water was a problem already, the electricity had also gone by then and aside from candles and the firelight, they had no other ways of heating or lighting. They were surviving on log fires and watching the pile of woods deplete slowly over the days. Fortunately the gas cylinders were still filled and cooking was not so much of an issue, or boiling and filtering snow, so they had enough water to drink.

 

“Here,” John put an extra blanket over the severely shivering Sherlock, “That better?”

 

Sherlock steadied his jaw that was hammering constantly from cold, then croaked, “Yeahhh.”

 

“I understand his problem,” John pointed at Jim, “He’s so thin he needs to eat. Or else his blood pressure falls.”

 

“He has a similar problem with cold,” Sebastian looked at Sherlock, “No body fat at all. He can’t take sub-zero temperatures too well.”

 

“GOD DAMN IT,” John kicked at a wall in frustration and yelled at the top of his voice.

 

They heard a growling cry somewhere close by and all four men took notice of it at once. “What-What was that?” Jim asked, looking around. “It came from not more than fifty feet away,” Sherlock deduced, teeth still chattering. “I didn’t exactly mean to disturb anyone, whatever they are,” John said rather apologetically, moving away from the window. “I could have gone out and checked but it’s not safe, I guess,” Sebastian concluded.

 

Pin-drop silence ensued and they waited for almost ten minutes, in case that thing cried out again or came closer or showed itself. Fortunately nothing like that happened and they breathed easy again. “Perhaps the wind,” John muttered.

 

“The wind doesn’t go hawwrrrrrr,” Jim taunted.

 

“Seems we have only two loaves of bread, four eggs, a bit of chicken mince, some apples and biscuits, half a dozen potatoes and onions and some tea and sugar left. No more coffee, milk, vegetables, meat or rice. Even the pasta and sauce bottles are over. Oh yeah, we have jam.”

 

“I’d worry more about the logs,” Sherlock pointed, “Three more days, that too if we limit the heating to a single room.”

 

“That better be the bedroom at night then,” Jim said, “Or we’d fucking freeze our arses off and no one will get any sleep. Last night when I hit the bed, it felt like I had landed on slush. The sheets were so cold it seemed like someone had doused them with water. Ice cold water.”

 

***

 

Sebastian woke up to find Jim and the others asleep. It was very late at night and someone or something seemed to be prowling around their cabin. He could hear breathing, footsteps, see a shadow fall across the windows as it passed by. Despite all the courage and bravado he could boast of, he felt his fingers and toes curl in with fear. This was an unknown enemy, mysterious, unpredictable and unassailable. He wasn’t sure if he should try and take it out. A soft cough from Jim made him make up his mind. No, if this creature was a potential danger to Jim then it was his duty to take it down, not just as a partner but also as Jim’s bodyguard.

 

“A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do!”

 

He got up, wore his jacket ad parka, put on his gloves and a cap and picked up his revolver and knife. He tiptoed out of the room, not noticing that one of the three heads raised and turned in his direction when he opened the door and stepped into the living room area. He was just putting on his socks and snow boots when the door to the bedroom opened again and out stepped Sherlock. He was shivering in his overcoat, which he had pulled on top of his pajamas, T shirt and pullover. “What happened?” Sebastian asked as if nothing had happened and everything was as normal as ever, “Why are you awake at this hour and why are you out of bed, that too on bare feet?”

 

“Don’t talk like Mycroft.”

 

“Get back to bed Sherlock.”

 

“Don’t go after it Seb.”

 

“I am not going anywhere.”

 

Sherlock gave him a duh look and stared at his shoes. Sebastian sighed, defeated, “Fine, I wanted to take that thing out. I mean, I’m a sniper. I have killed and defended my Jimmy before and I can do that again. Whatever it is, migou, yeti, abominable snowman, it’s still an animal.”

 

“If you don’t manage to kill it and aggravate it further, it could break down the walls.”

 

“What? You heard it too?”

 

“Deduced something else as well. It circles the property every night for some reason but doesn’t ever try to get into the cabins. My advice is, let’s keep it that way. We are already compromised Seb and don’t need to take on further trouble. If not us, think about Jim.”

 

“Honestly speaking, I was thinking about you too,” Sebastian admitted. Then, when he saw Sherlock stare at him in pleasant shock, he quickly took out a packet of cigarettes and said, “These are rationed too. We could share one.”

 

“Sharing is caring,” Sherlock said and snatched the pack from Sebastian, pulling one out. Then he snatched the lighter from the taller man and lit his smoke, before sensuously opening the front of his robe, pulling down the loose pullover and putting both items into the pocket of his sleep shirt. Sebastian’s eyes followed the path of Sherlock’s hands and he took in a deep, shaky breath, a slow but steady hardness building in his pants. He could hear the detective’s heart beating fast, he could feel Sherlock’s presence so powerfully that even his heart began to beat to the tune of the younger man’s heartbeat. To distract himself he looked away and asked, “I didn’t think you were built for that. To care, I mean.”

 

“I do care. I just hide it from most.”

 

“Why not from me?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

“Give me.”

 

“Huh? What?”

 

“The cigarette.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Sebastian took a few deep drags from the cigarette and let out the smoke in the shape of rings. Sherlock watched, mesmerized, as the man’s lips formed the perfect O, then from the mysterious darkness of that wet cavern the smoky rings came out, one after the other, the very sight of them piercing him straight in the gut. He liked Sebastian. He found the man enjoyable and interesting company. He was kind in his own way, generous to an extent and not really a dunce. There was nothing not to like.

 

“Here,” Sebastian handed him the cigarette back, “Take it before I finish all of it.”

 

“Hmmm…..” Sherlock took the cigarette, lighted end first, winced and dropped it.

 

“You are just like Jim, childishly careless at times, let me see your hand,” Sebastian forcefully took his hand and rubbed the spot that had got stung by the burning cigarette a moment ago.

 

That touch ignited something within Sherlock and he took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes and stepping closer to Sebastian even without knowing it. The sniper gasped slightly as well when he saw Sherlock do that and gently he closed the rest of the distance, putting his free arm around the detective and holding him. Sherlock tensed for a moment before he relaxed in that embrace.

 

“It might burn a little, sting slightly,” Sebastian said in a strangely caressing voice as he caressed Sherlock’s entire hand, “They say if you lick that spot, it kind of makes it better. For minor scalding, it certainly works, it works.”

 

“My lips are burning,” Sherlock said, not sure if he had spoken the words or someone else had. But he didn’t get time to dwell on it as Sebastian dipped his head and pressed his lips upon Sherlock’s, starting with a soft and tentative kiss at first. Clearly he didn’t want to spook out the man who was a known virgin in his thirties, even if he had been deflowered recently during their orgy. But Sherlock’s sexual potential seemed to have been unlocked and unleashed of late due to his stimulating experiences in bed, because he didn’t show any shyness or hesitation, instead he initiated an open mouthed kiss that soon got aggressive. Biting, licking, deep kissing, tonguing each other’s mouths, the two men grabbed each other and continued to devour each other’s mouths, their knees and backs knocking against furniture, the wall and the window.

 

“Oh my God,” Sebastian hissed as they parted, mainly due to lack of air, “You got blood on your lips Sherlock.”

 

“You….you got it too,” Sherlock responded in a breathy manner, trying to pull Sebastian closer, “Whose blood is it?”

 

“Do you care?”

 

“N-No….”

 

“But it’s sexy.”

 

“Y-Yeah….”

 

They went back to kissing again and this time Sherlock wrapped a leg around Sebastian and hooked it around the back of his knee, pulling their groins flush against each other. Immediately Sebastian moaned into the kiss and started to grind against Sherlock, making the green-eyed man start to tug and pull at the sniper’s clothes. Sebastian himself was eager for skin to skin contact and his large hands snuck under Sherlock’s sweater and sleep shirt, groping the smooth skin of his back eagerly.

 

Urgency built in their loins and soon clothes were removed, not entirely but just enough for the deed. Both men had had sex a while ago so when Sebastian tested Sherlock’s opening, he found it sufficiently loose for penetration. “I-I can’t make it back to the b-bedroom,” he hissed with arousal as Sherlock’s lips and teeth dragged over his neck and jawline, “We’ll need t-to make do with a little saliva maybe!”

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

Moments later they were back to kissing again as Sebastian took Sherlock against the wall, driving into him with such force that the slim detective’s legs almost got lifted off the ground. Sherlock held on to Sebastian with one of his hands as he used the other one to pleasure himself, slapping the erect phallus a few times against the hard abs of his taller lover. Swallowing each other’s moans and grunts in that scorching, never-ending kiss, they made love in the dark room, with a snowstorm beating down on their cottage from all sides. It was freezing cold but the heat of their passion kept them warm and kept them going, _thrust and pull, thrust and pull, a hard hand stroking an erection, skin rubbing against skin, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh_ and the scent of male arousal, sex and sweat.

 

“Oh-Oh-Oh-fuck,” Sebastian pulled back from the kiss and buried his face in Sherlock’s long neck. He was climaxing, Sherlock could feel the throb in his arse as Sebastian’s cock began to pulsate and leak in there.

 

“Just a few more,” he urged, his body tensing up and preparing for a climax as well, “Right there, please Seb!”

 

“Oh….fuck, yeah, fuck!”

 

“Uhnnnnn!!!”

 

Sebastian’s eyes screwed tightly shut as he came, his teeth sinking into Sherlock’s shoulder, his hot seed filling the body of his lover. Sherlock kept tugging at his erection desperately, so close to his orgasm he was almost dizzy with anticipation, and after a last little shout and shudder, he spilled between their bodies. Sebastian stared at the sight of Sherlock’s semen leaving his cock and suddenly he caught a bit between two fingers, then licked at it.

 

“What?” Sherlock asked. That obscenely hot moment had triggered a second mini-climax within him and he kept shuddering. “Tasty,” Sebastian grinned, licking his lips.

 

“I know what he sees in you,” Sherlock confessed as he found ground beneath his feet again, “I can see why he sticks to you.”

 

“And I understand why he has a little crush on you, or you on him,” Sebastian replied, “You are both very similar. Amazing!”

 

“We’ll get out of here soon,” Sherlock murmured as they trotted back to the bedroom, “Mark my words, we will.”


	14. End of the road or a close call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John chuckled, “The Dartmoor case huh? This means I am awake. And the snowstorm has stopped.”

Two more days passed and things came to a point where the four men were down to their last meal and maybe just another day’s supply of wood for warmth. The electricity connection was still not restored and temperatures outside had dropped so sharply that even reaching the landlords was next to impossible.

 

“Not sure if they’re alive either,” John sighed as they pondered over their situation.

 

The whole place was caked in with snow. It was like someone had dumped the whole world’s water into a machine, frozen it up and then emptied it over this small place. Jim suddenly lost it and screamed, “I am not going to die. I will NOT die here in these miserable conditions. I-I didn’t fight the world and build a web and do so many-many things, just so someday I would…..freeze to death in a Godforsaken little cottage in fucking N-Nepal. I didn’t earn millions of dollars to-to starve to death……here. My toes….I can’t even feel my toes. It’s so fucking cold.” He panted from the lack of energy and the high-strung nerves, his face pale and his cheeks a bright red. He was losing body heat, his skin had started to show those effects and his eyes had acquired a glassy look that came with both physical and mental anguish.

 

“Jimmy…..” Sherlock began.

 

“Shut up. I should have killed myself while I was still ah-ahead.”

 

“What?”

 

“There’s…..there’s no point in dying slowly…..not like this. I wanna….I wanna…..”

 

“What do you wanna do kitten?” Sebastian asked patiently, recognizing one of Jim’s panic attacks and gesturing at John to give him one of the medicines, “Killing yourself will not solve the problem. You know you’re stronger than that, don’t you? Come on, come here, you have frozen into an ice cube, you need to get warmer and I can keep you warm. Come to me, we will pile on all the blankets and I shall hold you……”

 

“Till I turn into a corpse in your arms?” Jim spat out.

 

“Oh please,” John wailed, “Keep him quiet. We are all trying to cope.”

 

“Give me the Goddamned meds then,” Sebastian shouted.

 

“They’re…..” John exhaled in distress, “Over.”

 

“Holy Mary Mother of God,” Sebastian held his head in his hands. Jim’s intake of meds had reduced in both quantity and dosage over the years but he did still need them, especially in trying circumstances like these. How was he going to keep the man calm without them?

 

“Get me out of here….get me outttt,” Jim was shrieking, shaking from top to toe, “I want to get out of here, I don’t wanna…..no, not like this, noooo.” He looked around and suddenly rushed towards the kitchen. Immediately Sherlock ran after him and crash tackled him to the ground, slowing him down. He managed to wriggle free but it gave Sebastian enough time to catch up and prevent a disaster.

 

Sebastian rushed to him and stopped him just as he was about to pick up a knife. “No, let me end this on my terms, I won’t go on anyone else’s terms, not even Mother Nature, no, NO,” Jim shouted, trying to grab the knife again.

 

Sebastian had never hit Jim before. He had been hit, slapped, punched, kicked, even hurt with a knife several times, he had JM tattooed on his hip with a pointy dagger, he had been burned with cigarettes and scratched in several places by the madman he worked for and loved. But over the years, even as Jim calmed down from his former violent self to a more normal and rational person, Sebastian had never ever felt the need to hit him back. Whenever Jim flared up and became destructive, he restrained him but never at the cost of hurting or hitting him. Initially fear stopped him but soon it was only love that kept his hands to his sides. He could never ever hurt his Jim, NEVER.

 

But he made an exception that day. He slapped him across the face, hard.

 

Jim gasped, his hand flying to his face where he had been hit. A small-built, lightweight man, he lost his balance and fell right next to Sherlock.

 

Sherlock, shocked at the reaction from Sebastian and fearing repercussions from Jim, crawled away from the kitchen on all fours, helped up by John who immediately pulled him out of there. “Seb will sort this out,” he said in a whisper, “We better stay out of this. If we interfere, we might end up causing more harm than good. I have my gun with me, come on, we’ll stay in the bedroom until they have calmed down.”

 

For once, Sherlock obeyed John totally.

 

Jim slid down against the counter and cabinets, finally hitting the floor on his bottom. He drew his knees to his chest and wound up into a tight ball, sobbing. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks and his small frame shook as he cried his heart out.

 

Sebastian felt like cutting off the hand he had just used to slap Jim. But then, he had done it for the man’s benefit. There was no point in indulging him when he was about to take a very wrong step. “Jim-Jim,” he whispered and approached his husband cautiously, “Hey, I am sorry, okay.”

 

Jim whimpered and didn’t say anything. He kept his head down, buried between his knees, still sobbing. “Jimmy please look at me,” Sebastian begged, feeling rotten, “It was a horrid thing to do. Don’t know what came over me. I was trying to stop you from hurting yourself.”

 

“Jimmy…..I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.”

 

“Jim please. You were about to give up. I didn’t want you to give up. Still, I am sorry I did that.”

 

“You should have done that a long time ago,” Jim spoke in a muffled, soft voice, sniffling. Those words shocked Sebastian so much that he gasped very loudly and fell on his knees next to Jim, his bright blue eyes wide in disbelief. Was Jim apologizing? Really? He could barely believe his ears. Jim relaxed his tightly wound body slightly and looked up at Sebastian, cheeks tear-stained, lips trembling but eyes totally free of angst. At once Sebastian knew his man meant whatever he said. Relieved that Jim had finally calmed down, that too without meds, he sent up a quiet prayer and pulled his husband into his arms. Jim didn’t resist, instead he melted into that embrace and held Sebastian back equally tightly.

 

“I am still sorry, I will never do this again,” Sebastian kissed the finger marks that had appeared on Jim’s right cheek.

 

“You have the right,” Jim said quietly in a tremulous voice.

 

“Oh God, I don’t believe you’re saying this.”

 

“You’re my husband, my partner, the man I share my life with, the man who had dedicated his life to me. If anyone has the right to do this, it’s you. I just wish we had been together sooner, when I was maybe not so cuckoos, then perhaps I could have been saved a lot earlier. After I left home at sixteen, I have faced two kinds of people, those who were afraid of me and those who wanted to get rid of me. The only person who loved me, still loves me, is you. This slap….”

 

He paused and wiped his face with Sebastian’s sleeve, “This slap was long overdue. Sorry I lost it, I shouldn’t have.”

 

“You’re not a weak man Jim,” Sebastian kissed the top of his head, “You’ll be fine. We will all be fine, we will make it out of here. I promise you.”

 

“I love you Tiger.”

 

“I love you too my kitten.”

 

***

 

“Sherlock, Sherlock?” John nudged Sherlock harder and said, “I think the storm has blown over. The one in the kitchen, I mean. Much as I like Jim now, I am not too fond of the unhinged Jim who picks up a knife and slashes it through anyone he sees.”

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock replied, teeth chattering, “Can you give me another blanket please Jawn.”

 

“Sure thing,” John said and quickly covered Sherlock with another thick blanket. He quickly got out of the bed and poked at the fire, willing the dying embers to burn a bit longer. They had just enough wood to last that day and perhaps a night and then it would be over. From the next day there would be no fire, no food, no water to wash their hands and face or to use the toilet, no meds, nothing at all. He had a small bottle of whiskey left, which he intended to use when the night got too cold.

 

There was another thing that bothered him. Sherlock’s toes, fingers, nose, they had begun to lose their ability to respond to stimulus. He was beginning to get hypothermic and developing frostbites. He wasn’t feeling anything on the tips of his fingers, toes or nose and soon that would spread to other parts of his body.

 

John shuddered with fear and a sense of foreboding filled him. For a change he could feel and understand Jim’s frustrations and fears. This was quite a situation they were in. Snowed in and stranded in a remote location, with no contacts with the outside world, no chances of survival until the blizzards ceased and the road to the next town got cleared soon. They needed food, fresh clothes, proper heating, medical care and most of all, they needed to get out of here. John was filled with a sense of dread that maybe, just maybe, this was the end of the road for all of them after all. He pulled Sherlock closer and kissed him on the lips, wincing when he felt the cold, dry and flaky skin on his face.

 

“We are going to die Jawn,” Sherlock spoke in a resigned voice.

 

“Don’t you dare say that.”

 

“No, it is true…..”

 

“What I know as true is this. My friend, my love, my partner Sherlock Holmes lives to give hope and retribution to people and bring criminals to justice. He is a symbol of optimism and intelligence and not a sob story of fears and doubts and helplessness. I am not going to accept this side of you Sherl, the one which despairs so easily. We still have a day’s rations left, we can survive for another day or two, so it makes it what….three more days and nights? This fucking snowstorm will be over within then, mark my words.”

 

Sherlock looked into John’s eyes. Those warm brown orbs warmed up some part of him that had frozen with the fear of dying here, buried in snow. He thawed as fresh hope flared up within him and he hugged John back mightily.

 

“I love you Jawn. I don’t know if I’d say that often but it’s there, in here,” he pointed at his heart, “I love you so much.”

 

“And I love you,” John replied, “I wish I had told you many years ago. Strange, sometimes when you think you are in trouble is when you speak the truth.”

 

Jim and Sebastian came in at that precise moment. Jim looked much calmer and Sebastian was carrying him in his arms. “What’s this?” John grinned, tried to lighten up the tense atmosphere, “Newlyweds? I didn’t know there was a priest hiding there behind the oven.”

 

“You are a good man Dr. Watson,” Jim said unexpectedly, “Good people have their prayers answered sooner than us, criminals. Why don’t you pray hard, real hard, and ask whatever powers you submit to, to get us out of this mess. Because I don’t think we have much left to fall back on, except for…..prayers.”

 

***

 

John had slept poorly that night, as had the other three. But for John it had been worse. Jim’s words had moved him a lot and he had spent long hours praying and praying some more, lying in bed with Sherlock shivering and moaning in his arms. He had not been to a church often since he had grown up and gone to the military, but he hadn’t left church either. He always visited the church and even went to Bible reading and masses whenever time permitted him. However, religion had not been a big thing for him and even in the presence of danger, during their cases especially, he had not prayed to God for deliverance. He always has faith on himself and his Sherlock.

 

But for the first time in his life, he had a feeling that nothing but Divine intervention could save them. No other force but that of God’s benevolent protection could deliver them from their present peril. So he had kept praying, dozing, waking up, praying some more. At some point he had fallen asleep, listening to the soft hum of Sebastian singing a lullaby for a sobbing Jim. The poor fellow had got another mini-panic attack.

 

When he opened his eyes he thought he was dreaming. He could see sunlight, yes, sunlight, and the weather seemed warmer than the previous night, much more tolerable. There was no more of those dull, sickening thudding and plopping sounds of snow falling around them nor the bleak, dreary grey lights of mid-winter. The windows, whatever part of them were not caked with snow, let in sunbeams, sweet golden rays of the sun and some of them fell directly on their bed. A huge smile spread over his lips when he realized that his prayers had finally been answered. The snowstorm had passed.

 

Or was he dreaming?

 

He tried to get up and almost immediately Sherlock’s hand smacked the back of his head. “N-No,” the detective was moaning in his sleep, clearly dreaming, “Get away you filthy hound.”

 

John chuckled, “The Dartmoor case huh? This means I am awake. And the snowstorm has stopped.”

 

He took a look at Jim and Sebastian, both still asleep, and got out of bed to check the outdoors.


	15. There are no miracles John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unusual friend and the end of a great, if frightening, adventure

When John looked out of the window, he realized that something had changed drastically the night before. Not only had the storm blown over and the snowfall stopped entirely, the snow around the cottage and the entire mini-resort had been shoveled away, clearing the path for them to get out of the cottage and venture outdoors without having to struggle with boarded up doors and blocked windows, clogged chimneys and a dangerous mush outside that could easily swallow up a man of his height. “Incredible,” he exclaimed.

 

He heard a deep, raspy baritone behind him, “What is?”

 

“Seb, I don’t know if I am seeing things right,” John pointed at the outdoors, his voice laced with disbelief and wonder, “I must be dreaming right? Not only has the blizzard completely stopped and the weather’s got miraculously better overnight, someone has cleaned up as well. The snow has been shoveled to the side, the door and porch have been swept clean, the path in front of us is completely tidied up and we can open the windows easily, see!” He pushed the windows open and they opened up smoothly, like they would during the month of autumn. “Only twelve hours ago we couldn’t even move these shutters, they were stuck tight. And now……this is amazing!”

 

“There are no miracles John,” Sebastian peered out of the window, “I have learned this one big truth in my lifetime. It’s always an effort or a support, never a miracle.”

 

“You mean someone has done this?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Wait, let me wake Sherlock. He is good with deductions.”

 

“Yeah, might be good. Let me check the outdoors and see if I can get some rations. I am so hungry I could eat my own fingers.”

 

“Now that’s a horrible image you gave me man.”

 

“I mean it, not lying.”

 

“That’s why it’s a horrible image. I cannot un-see this now.”

 

John went to the bedroom where Sherlock was sitting on the bed, Jim on his lap as usual, and the two were in a sweetly dozy state, murmuring and mostly whining about their situation. John rolled his eyes, “Lazy arses, they can’t be bothered to open their eyes wide and see how things have actually changed since last night.”

 

“Hey fellas.”

 

“Hmmmfgggg,” was what he got from both consultants.

 

“Put on some clothes and come outside. I am sure you both would like what you’re about to see. The storm is over, the sun is out and the weather has improved drastically. Not just that, the snow has been shoveled and …..”

 

“Hey, hey, hey, it is truly a miracle,” Sebastian rushed into the room with big bags in both hands, his grin broad and nearly cheek-splitting and his blue eyes sparkling with happiness, “I just went out to see if we can get some bread and eggs, at least to run the kitchen and fill out bellies for one more day whilst we wait for the highway to be cleared. Guess what I found there. These two bags and look what’s in here.” He opened them and a collective gasp of happiness went up from the three other men in the bedroom. Bread, eggs, whiskey, rum, butter, jam, fruits, vegetables, steaks, chocolates, rice, cartons of bottled water, juice, milk, tea, sugar and some cereals. There was enough for them to eat to their heart’s content for three more days at least.

 

“Not just this,” Sebastian pointed at the doorway, “A heap of logs to keep a fire burning for three or four days. A big heap.”

 

“Jesus,” John murmured, “Pinch me.”

 

Jim promptly pinched his bottom, making him yelp. “What the hell Jim?” John said, rubbing the sore spot.

 

“You should have been more specific,” Jim grinned. His spirits had definitely picked up and he looked stable, his usual playful self and in a real good mood.

 

Sherlock gently patted Jim’s side and made him get off from his lap, then got out of bed. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true.”

 

He quickly dressed and limped out of the cottage, his stiff fingers and toes slowing him down considerably. Jim got out a lot quicker but came straight back inside, blinking. “So bright, I almost got a bit blinded,” he rubbed his eyes.

 

“Wear sunglasses, or else you’ll get snow blindness,” Sebastian took out a couple of pairs, “It’s unbelievably sunny outside and the snow will reflect it right back on to you. Do you guys also have sunglasses with you?”

 

John quickly took out their sunglasses and soon all four men were outside, surveying the surroundings and marveling at their luck. This couldn’t have happened at a more opportune time, they were just about out of ration and firewood and just one more day and night of being snowed-in there could have irreparably damaged them. “So detective,” Jim challenged Sherlock, “Who do you think is our benefactor?”

 

Sherlock was scrutinizing things very carefully. He gave Jim a strange look and said, “I think the Red Cross….I mean someone or some organization that helps with these things. Or maybe it’s our neighbors over there. See.”

 

They saw two tall, muscular blond women emerge from the cottage diagonally opposite to theirs. They walked past their cottage, surveying the surroundings just like they were. Both of them seemed to be totally into each other and were holding hands but they did give Sebastian a second look. “Bitches,” Jim muttered angrily, “Decide which side you bat on.”

 

Sebastian took advantage of that second look and waved at the ladies as they walked by. They waved back with big smiles. “Big relief eh,” Sebastian pointed at the skies and they nodded, saying something similar in agreement. Then the colonel pointed at the sacks of food and the logs and said, “Thanks a lot, yeah.” The two women paused, frowned slightly and then looked at each other. “We should be the ones to thank you,” one of them said with a shrug, “We got our signal back,” she showed her mobile phone, “Called the nearest town and asked for some help in clearing the highway so we could be on our way soon. They are about to arrive any moment now with the men and machines, about a ten hour job I think.”

 

“They didn’t leave these on our doorstep,” Sherlock added.

 

“How do you know? Maybe they’re just shy and don’t want to be thanked. There are people like that.”

 

“I saw their hands. Chopping so much wood in a short time would have showed. Marks, swelling, redness, none of those were there. It’s not them.”

 

“The landlord maybe. Or their helpers?”

 

“Dunno. This isn’t the job of a couple of thin spindly guys. This is some serious effort.”

 

John butted in before the conversation went any further down that path, “Hey, instead of investigating something that doesn’t need any investigation and wasting our time here, let’s do what is important. Two of us can check on our cars and start the engines, the remaining two can start a nice fire and warm up the cottage again. Prepare a nice hearty brunch since it’s a bit late for breakfast anyways.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Jim replied and went indoors.

 

“I’ll help him,” Sherlock offered.

 

“Looks like we need to go to the cars,” Sebastian smiled.

 

“I don’t mind,” John smiled back, feeling relieved, “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

 

***

 

The highway workers finished their job by seven in the evening. Since it was dark by then, the four men decided to be on their way the next morning. Television, mobile and internet signals were restored, though the same could not be said of the electricity and running water. The foursome didn’t mind that, it was a matter of just one more night after all, and they were glad to be able to eat and stay in warm, cozy conditions.

 

“How about we make the most of our last night here?” Jim announced. The tone he used was innocent but the words and his expression were dripping with connotations.

 

“I say it’s a bloody good idea,” Sherlock replied, seductively stretching out his lean, lithe body on the couch. Sebastian seemed eager and restless to get there and nodded vigorously, adjusting himself a couple of times before finding a comfortable position on the chair he was sitting on. Even John, the most conservative of all four men, felt his boxers had become a bit too tight. With several other factors taken care of, like the cottage being nice and toasty warm again, good food on the table and an assured exit from the place the very next morning, a different kind of need took central place amongst them. They needed to have fun and fulfilment, make this a memorable night before they parted with good memories. Tonight was going to be ‘that’ night.

 

Sometime after dinner Sebastian had gone out to check the road and the cars again, ensuring they were all in order for their journey the next day. John was still doing the dishes but Sherlock and Jim were neither occupied nor patient. As Sherlock sat on a chair by the roaring fire, Jim suddenly went shirtless, kicked off his socks and started to waltz around him with an invisible partner, seductively swaying his hips. The detective sucked in a long, lusty breath and asked, “What are you doing?”

 

“What does it seem like?”

 

“You’re dancing with a pretend partner.”

 

“You don’t like it?”

 

“Looks weird.”

 

“What do you want, a lap dance then?”

 

Sherlock had been teased enough and with his body on fire already from the sight of a shirtless Jim, he decided enough was enough. He shot up from the chair and grabbed Jim, slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him straight to the bedroom. He threw the man on the bed and watched teasingly as Jim bounced up and down a few times and glared at him. “If you do that ever again……” he growled but that was interrupted by Sherlock kissing him on the mouth hard enough to make him forget whatever threat he was about to spill out next. With a soft moan Jim surrendered.

 

In no time they were naked and writhing on the bed, kissing and touching each other with a desperation that came from knowing this was not going to happen again anytime soon. With the end of the snowstorm had come another realization, they were soon going to go their separate ways.

 

John had heard some of the noise made by the two men and even watched Sherlock enter the bedroom with Jim on his shoulder, but he calmly kept doing the dishes. They had the whole night ahead of them so why hurry? Soon he heard them moan, heard the sounds of the bed creaking and then something fall off its place with a thud. They were surely at it by now. But instead of jealousy, it only made him do the dishes faster and smile crookedly at his reflection on the window pane. _How things had changed! How did my life get to the point where I am okay with my man fucking someone else? Better still, how did I even reach that point where I can’t wait to tell my sister, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, everyone that Sherlock and I are together, as domestic and romantic partners and not just as house mates and colleagues!!!_

 

He had just finished and was wiping his hands on a dish towel when he heard urgent knocks on the door. Sebastian was back. “Hey,.” John opened the door.

 

“All well, we can start tomorrow. Cars are fine, engines running smooth, we need to take a few supplies with us and then……”

 

Before he could finish, they heard a yelp and then a low rolling moan come from the bedroom. Sebastian’s eyes widened for a moment as he realized what was going on there. “The fuck,” he exclaimed, ““Bastards have started without us.”

 

“Yeah, we will join them now.”

 

Sebastian was already stripping and was half out of his clothes when he reached the bedroom doorway, John right at his tail. What they saw acted as such a strong aphrodisiac that both men nearly spilled it in their pants right there.

 

Jim and Sherlock were sucking each other off while fingering each other with three digits. They moaned sensuously with their mouths full and shuddered spectacularly each time their prostates got brushed. “Fuck, I’m hard,” Sebastian moaned, palming himself over his trousers.

 

John was about to say something similar when the two men orgasmed and came so copiously that even after swallowing each other’s loads, they got a shot each on their chins.

 

It was such an obscenely hot and dirty sight to see them laying there panting, cum on their chins, lips sore from sucking and with such blissful expressions on their faces that the two former army men pounced on them, ready to ravish them through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add one more chapter (16th chappie) as it was difficult to wrap it up with this one. The next chapter will also have an epilogue, hence will be longer!!!


	16. A liberal gay man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see you have worn the purple shirt of sex."

John was pleasuring Jim with a dildo and his cock at the same time, taking him hard and deep as the writhing mastermind lay on his front with John sitting on his hips. John shocked himself at how easily he had blended into this situation, a gay orgy, and was riding a man who had once almost taken his life. But life was nothing if not changeable and man was nothing if he didn’t adapt. He found that he liked the change, loved the control he had over this dangerous and deceptively cute man as he rode him hard while controlling the speed of the toy’s vibrations.

 

But his eyes were also on the two men having sex right next to them.

 

Sebastian had Sherlock screeching, bawling, mewling, whining and making all sorts of unintelligible noises as he kept the detective pinned to the mattress, legs raised up high in the air while he stuck his tongue deep into his furled opening. Sherlock alternated between stroking his cock in a state of frenzy whilst Sebastian tongue fucked him and thrashing about and gasping as Sebastian ate him out and played with his balls and perineum. John couldn’t believe the responses Sebastian managed to draw out of Sherlock and how the normally cold-blooded detective writhed hard and encouraged Sebastian to keep going, _begged_ him to continue, _pleaded_ with him to _please never_ stop.

 

“Joohnnnn,” Jim cried out sharply, “I am going to cum.”

 

“Cum,” John slapped Jim’s arse, hard.

 

“Asshole,” Jim yelped but moaned out loud, “More.”

 

“Want me to…..”

 

“Yeah, spank me, please….”

 

John did that again, realizing he found that to be a huge turn-on. He kept driving hard into Jim until the Irishman went into complete ecstasy and began to tighten hard around him. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard…..” John rasped out, hips moving erratically now as he began to ejaculate. He had found that his tongue had been sufficiently loosened during sex, which was not hard when all he could hear around him was dirty talk and moaning sounds and all he saw were naked, writhing men having sex and begging for more.

 

Deep shudders ran through Jim and swept through John’s body as well, completing the total cycle as they came together, Jim beating John by just half a second. They shook uncontrollably and Jim spread his legs even wider, pushing his hips up to get John even deeper in.

 

As soon as they came down from the initial high, their heads turned to the right to watch the two men right next to them. Sherlock was on the verge of cumming and Sebastian was buried face deep into the Englishman, whose erection was leaking like a popsicle all over his stomach.

 

Under their astonished eyes and watering mouths, they witnesses Sebastian plunging into Sherlock’s now moist and relaxed hole and in the very next moment both men bellowed out their release. They fell down in a heap on the bed, limbs tangled and bodies entwined, both men making soft sounds of satisfaction and relief.

 

“I hooope you’re not done yeeeet,” Jim sang, “Because we have plans for you. Dr. Watson and I wanna join in too, if you dooooon’t mind!!!”

 

It struck John at the back of his mind that Jim was considering them as ‘one’ unit. That was both a pleasant shock and an astonishing reveal to him. From sworn enmity to intimacy and even friendship, things had certainly changed a lot between them. Whereas Sherlock and Jim always had a fascination towards each other and he and Sebastian had known one another from army days, over the past few days these bonds had not only enriched but also extended in various permutations and combinations to include all four of them. Sebastian and Sherlock, him and Jim, they were now truly one cohesive unit. Without realizing he was doing so, he reached out and stroked Jim’s rump, fingers caressing the hole that once again twitched under his gentle ministrations.

 

“I need your mouth this time,” Sebastian said with unabashed hunger, “And Jimmy fingers inside me.”

 

“How specific,” Jim laughed.

 

“I have an idea,” John was panting from need already.

 

“Oooh, the doc has an idea!!!”

 

“Let’s do him together.”

 

“You mean, double penetration?”

 

“Yes Mr. Moriarty sir, can we do the two?”

 

Jim’s eyes glittered with lust and wickedness and he looked at Sherlock, who was lying naked on his back, legs still wide apart, abs streaked with cum and grinning slightly. “Might make you feel very full,” Jim teased him as he tested Sherlock’s hole with four fingers, “But my Sebby seems to have opened you up nice and good and prepped you to take us. He can fuck your mouth, that’s the only way to shut you up sometimes.”

 

“Prat,” Sherlock snapped.

 

“Always,” Jim giggled.

 

***

 

Sherlock thought he was going to die from sheer pleasure. He was spread out on his back, propped slightly up against the headboard with pillows, his arse supported up by two more pillows, and three men ravishing him in their own ways. John and Jim were buried deep inside him and he felt so full he could almost burst a nut. Yet the feeling of fullness was very minor as compared to the immense pleasure of having his prostate constantly brushed and rubbed by two hard and sizeable dicks, moving in perfect rhythm inside him.

 

To complete the cycle, Sebastian straddled his chest and fucked his mouth, his thick cock and musky smell filling Sherlock’s mouth and nose respectively. Sherlock was so beside himself with pleasure that he couldn’t stop moaning, couldn’t stop shuddering, couldn’t stop cumming. He had no idea how many times he had climaxed, his stomach was a wet sticky mess, but he knew he could still cover a mile more.

 

Jim was unable to believe this was truly happening, that he was enjoying Sherlock and that too in the company of John and his sweet Sebby. He had always been lusty and insatiable and loved to taste different flavors, his code word for ‘different types of men’ in ‘different positions’. Fortunately for him Sebastian was not a jealous, possessive partner. He was always okay to share Jim with someone he was also comfortable with, as long as the sex happened in his presence. He knew his Tiger loved that, loved watching him with someone else and viewed it as his private show, with his husband as the primary porn actor in the reel. Somehow just knowing that his handsome husband was watching him made him cum harder than he otherwise would.

 

He moved insistently, quickly inside Sherlock, making short and hard thrusts. With John also buried in there, right next to him, he couldn’t go very deep or hold on very long. But why would he mind that as long as it felt so amazingly good to have John’s thick member rub against his while they fucked Sherlock at the same time. John was not as handsome as Seb, nor as sexy as Sherlock, but he was the sort of debonair, attractive, manly man that one would never discount when it came to mutual pleasure. John was a giver and he was appealing in an oddly normal but compelling way. Jim found himself getting addicted.

 

Sebastian huffed and moaned as his thick phallus slipped in and out of Sherlock’s lips. The tip was glistening with the detective’s saliva and the greedy manner in which the curly haired man relaxed his throat and took more and more of him in, nearly proved to be his undoing.

 

He groaned and growled as Jim’s fingers moved in and out of his arse, sometimes teasing him lightly and sometimes digging deeper to nick his prostate and rub repeatedly on it. With each little rub his engorged cock got a bit harder, spilled a little more clear slick and moved a little closer to what could be a gigantic orgasm. He reached behind himself to grab Jim’s hand and squeezed it, feeling rather assured that the man was right there and enjoying himself. Just having Jim around made him feel better, sexier, needier.

 

John felt Jim cum and wrapped an arm around the Irishman’s waist, supporting him as he grunted and swayed on his knees, too lost in his private world of pleasure to keep himself upright. Jim disarmingly rested his head on John’s shoulder and kept cumming, his warm seed acting as extra lube for the doctor who kept making small pumping thrusts inside Sherlock.

 

To his surprise Jim continued once more after he had come down from the high. Grinning at the show of stamina and the amazing refractory time shown by the criminal mastermind, John kept making love to Sherlock while he turned his head and…..at the spur of the moment, kissed Jim.

 

At first even Jim’s eyes widened. A kiss was way more intimate than having random sex but the kiss with John didn’t feel wrong, didn’t feel repulsive, didn’t feel forced. He actually found the doctor to be a good kisser and soon the open mouthed kisses intensified with passion. Jim’s eyes blinked and gently fluttered shut as he allowed John to explore every corner and cavern of his mouth, his moans reverberating in John’s mouth as they swapped spit and thrust their tongues down each other’s throats. John slipped out of Sherlock during a careless moment and Sherlock whined from the feeling of loss, but Jim promptly grabbed John’s huge erection and guided him back in there. All through this, their kiss never ended and John found himself glad to continue the lip-lock while they went on with their thrusts inside Sherlock’s spasming arse. He had cum yet again, perhaps for the third time.

 

Sebastian came hard and fell on the bed next to them, spasming with sensations. Anyone who saw him would think he was having a seizure but in reality he was just besieged by aftershocks.

 

Jim came next, his gyrating body stiffening completely as he let out a shriek and emptied himself one more time in Sherlock. Drained and dozy, he fell sideways on to John who held him upright with his left arm while he stroked Sherlock’s cock with the other hand.

 

They were yet to cum.

 

“P….Please….Jawn!”

 

“Fuck. Can’t hold it back.”

 

And John couldn’t. He came as soon as he had said those words and the orgasm hit him with such force that he couldn’t see nor hear anything around him for a good minute. All he could do was feel. He felt Jim sag in his arms, felt Sebastian shuddering next to them, felt Sherlock cum again and spill out a small trickle of seed over his fingers. John kept thrusting and spilling till he had nothing left to give and his cock had softened enough to automatically slip out.

 

“Oh well….” He grinned at the sight that greeted him.

 

Sebastian was snoring, open mouthed, lying on his back with his hand still on his crotch. Jim was half-asleep in his arms, head lolling to one side and limbs almost jelly like. Sherlock had passed out from the sheer exhaustion of cumming more times than he had solved cases.

 

“Guess I am the tenacious one,” John snickered.

 

Guess I am also a confirmed gay man now, someone who doesn’t mind an occasional gay orgy.

 

Musing over the tremendous libido and stamina he had shown, John went about settling them all down to a good night’s sleep. With long drives ahead of them and longer flights thereafter, they needed their rest. He kissed all three of them on their cheeks (an additional kiss for Sherlock on the lips) and managed to get them into better sleeping positions, ones that wouldn’t give them a crick in the neck. Then he carefully lay down, spooning Sherlock, his arm stretching over Sebastian’s shoulder and holding Jim’s hand. With his remaining strength and wakefulness, he pulled the covers over their naked bodies before his eyes closed on their own.

 

***

 

The next morning arrived, bright and pleasant, calm and beautiful.

 

All four men dressed in silence and packed the rest of their things. It was time to leave.

 

The last few days had been a life-changing experience for them, to say the least. This experience had changed their perspectives on love, life, lust and relationships. Things that had never seemed important before now felt like a necessary part of their existence. People whom they had viewed with nonchalance were now pulling at their heartstrings. They were in a process of reassessing their priorities and long term future. None of them spoke aloud about this but all of them knew exactly what was going on in the other three heads in the room.

 

But the biggest surprise awaited them when they came out. “Footprints,” Sebastian pointed, “Just outside out bedroom window and going into the woods. They’re so fucking big.”

 

“At least a twenty foot creature,” Jim assessed.

 

“Furry one too,” Sherlock picked up a few wisps of hair from the snow.

 

“The yeti is real?” John asked, “And was it watching us have sex last night?”

 

Sherlock stared into the distance, “Did it actually help us with the food supplies, wood etc.”

 

“Where would it find supplies?” Sebastian asked, confused.

 

“I’d say he retrieved them from different sources,” Jim replied in his usual cocky, naughty style, “Mountaineers, local villages, shops, camps set up for tourists. I guess we will never really know. Maybe she’s a female with voyeuristic tendencies and fell for our ‘charms’.”

 

“It helped the landlord and those two women too,” Sherlock added, “I guess it has a heart.”

 

 

**E ** **pilogue******

 

_2 months later_

 

Christmas Eve it was and 221B Baker Street was decorated with Christmas lights, a huge tree, ornaments all over it, pretty packed presents at the foot of it, and fragrant with the whiff of various kinds of dishes being cooked in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen downstairs. For a change Christmas was being looked forward to, even by the staid and convention-hating Sherlock Holmes, who kept checking his watch impatiently while he sat in his chair.

 

“My readers seem to think I have turned into quite the storyteller, you know,” John commented in an amused manner as he went through the comments section, “While they enjoyed the story of our snowstorm interlude in Nepal, they are less inclined to believe we had an encounter, sort of encounter, with the Yeti and it turned out to be something ‘human’ and not an abominable beast. I guess facts are sometimes stranger than fiction. People are okay to accept there are cruel children who butcher their parents for the estate, psychopaths who eat their victims and corrupt doctors who trade organs for money and leave their unsuspecting patients to live an impaired life…..but not that the migou could have a heart, a human heart.”

 

“They are late,” Sherlock huffed, looking annoyed and making faces that resembled a disgruntled child’s, “It’s nearly 5 PM and no signs of them yet. And here I thought that the experience we had at Nepal had changed them somewhat. When I read news about stolen artifacts suddenly returned to museums and collectors, secret government papers restored with their custodians, corrupt and greedy ministers and businessmen exposed by a mysterious source, who remained unnamed, I thought that maybe Jim had turned a new leaf. But I guess I was walking down the wrong path.”

 

“Sherl,” John closed the laptop, “They never said they’d be here at 5 PM.”

 

“They did. You heard him talk. The call was on the speaker and…..”

 

“They’d start at 5 am Pacific time. Their flight would land here at around 4-30 M. It takes more than an hour and half to get to this house, you know that.”

 

“Um….I…..sometimes the time zone difference gets to me.”

 

“The only thing that gets to you is a fear of being abandoned.”

 

Sherlock sighed, “Rubbish.” But even that sounded like the weakest ever contradiction he had ever made.

 

A warm hand on his shoulder made him feel a bit more assured and he looked up at his John, who was staring down at him with twinkling eyes. “I see you have worn the purple shirt of sex,” the good doctor laughed merrily.

 

“Oh come on,” Sherlock was embarrassed, the color rose to his pale cheeks immediately, “You don’t start that now.”

 

“It’s so much fun to tease you.”

 

“To be honest, I can’t believe it yet that Jim really does want to go legit. But I gotta believe him now, especially since he has proved himself. He returned so many things, some from his collection, others which belonged to his clients and I have it on good authority that he has made his existing alias and avatar, Kevin McConaughey, in whose name he used to run the new web, disappear totally from all dealings. In fact Kevin has been reported ‘killed’ in an encounter in Turkey but in reality Jim ‘killed’ Kevin so he could be……Jim once again. Of course, he has chosen to be Jim Moran and not Jim Moriarty, since they plan to use Sebastian’s family name as their last name now.”

 

John gave his partner a knowing look, “I think we all changed since then.”

 

“Not me,” Sherlock said in his usual cocky manner.

 

“In all these years we have lived together I always saw a grumpy Sherlock detest Christmas. The crowds, the shopping, the lights, that stupid tree, the useless get-togethers, what’s all the fuss about food and choosing the best wine, what the fuck!!! But this year, I am seeing the great grumpy grouch Sherlock Holmes look forward to Christmas, gifts, choosing a huge tree and actually suggesting a dinner menu to old Hudders.”

 

“I am just being nice, for you and Hudders.”

 

“Not for Jim and Seb.”

 

“Well, you invited them, so…..”

 

“I could invite Mycroft too…..”

 

“NO, that’s a big NO.”

 

“But Jim and Seb were a big yes, right?”

 

Sherlock raised both hands and got up from his chair, “Fine, you win. Yes, I wanna see them. I miss them, okay? But I am not sure I am the only one who does. I saw you cross dates off the calendar in your earlier room, which you now use to store your useless collection of ridiculous Christmas jumpers and the weird furniture you buy sometimes.”

 

“Busted,” John laughed.

 

“I notice things too.”

 

“Did you notice I didn’t arrange for a guest room for them?”

 

Memories of their hot sex and prolonged conjugal experiences back in that little cottage in Nepal came back to both men and immediately they felt a strange stirring in their pants. Heat spread in their loins and Sherlock quickly pulled down his single breasted blazer to cover his crotch while John crossed his legs for the same reason. “Yeah I did notice,” Sherlock said awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, “It’s pointless to have two bedrooms when we can…..um, share! Same reason why I bought a new bed last week, a larger one which offers plenty of space and a mattress so soft it makes slim little criminal masterminds bounce when they’re dropped unceremoniously on it.”

 

***

 

Jeremy Ian Moran and Shawn Adrian Moran arrived around 7 pm.

 

After a few hugs and handshakes and a discreet squeeze of an ass cheek here and there, the group settled down with some delicious eggnog prepared by Mrs. Hudson who, after fussing over the guests, went downstairs again to ‘put the finishing touches’ on their dinner.

 

While John and Sebastian got talking about an old military mate who had just released his first book, Sherlock and Jim squeezed into the same chair, jostling for space but neither of them willing to give up and move to another one. “I got the old woman a three-string necklace of real pearls with matching studs, as a Christmas gift,” Jim said as he sipped the eggnog, “She does deserve it, especially for making this thing, Mmmm, nice! But don’t tell me that’s all we have to drink tonight.”

 

“There’s a lot more to drink,” Sherlock confirmed, “Wine, whiskey, rum, semen, take your pick.”

 

“Hush virgin, your mother would be shocked to hear that.”

 

“My mummy doesn’t need to know my sex life.”

 

“I think the virgin has grown up and grown out of his repressed shell.”

 

“And I think the criminal mastermind is ready to make London his base again?”

 

“As a legit businessman this time. If Mycroft doesn’t cause any problems.”

 

“He won’t do that. Leave that bit to me.”

 

Jim’s chocolate brown eyes glowed, “You want us to be back here?”

 

Sherlock caressed the side of Jim’s face, “More than you’d ever guess. Yeah, it would be nice to live in the same city for at least a few months every year, see each other more often, then maybe I can even consult you on a few cases.”

 

Jim looked like he was about to argue on that or make a smart comment but something in Sherlock’s eyes made him stop, nod and then press his lips on to the detective’s. They kissed tenderly and then rested their foreheads against each other, grinning at the burgeoning feelings within themselves.

 

John and Sebastian noticed the intimacy but neither of them felt the need to stop them or get bothered by what was happening in that corner of the room. There was no insecurity, jealousy or possessiveness there. They’d happily keep their partners on a long leash and as long as Sherlock came home to John and Jim to Sebastian, they didn’t mind a hookup between the geniuses. From time to time, _they’d all hook up_ , as a cozy, kinky and highly-sexed foursome. “To be honest,” Sebastian confessed to John, “Since our two weeks there…..my sex life has moved from a tricycle ride to the vroom of a formula 1 car.”

 

“Same here,” John winked.

 

“That snowstorm interlude literally gave us cabin fever and scared us shitless for a few days,” Sebastian added, “But in hindsight, it did us, _all of us_ , a world of good. For the first time since we met and fell in love, I have a feeling Jimmy and I might actually grow old together.”

 

“In every possible way,” John raised his glass happily, “Sometimes all we need in order to invent our own sense of self-worth and see our lives in the correct perspective is a snowstorm, a cottage and the perfect company to be snowed-in with.”

 

Mrs. Hudson came in with a tray with two plates on it. One was filled with stuffed mushroom croquettes and the other with cheese and olives on sticks. “Oh,” she exclaimed when she looked at Jim and Sherlock, “Why John, are you really okay with Jim sitting on Sherlock’s lap?”

 

John shrugged and answered her with a lopsided smile, “What can I say Mrs. Hudson? I am a liberal gay man who likes to share.”

 

He had the enormous satisfaction of seeing the chatterbox Mrs. Hudson shut up completely for a change!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The huge creature with a kind heart might be a myth, but this is fiction right? I took my poetic license and liberties here!
> 
> Thanks Iantolives for the request, comments and support throughout this series!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much IantoLives for the idea. Hope you like the story dear!


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